Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio
by Musicangel913
Summary: The first has a dead father and a psychotic madman out to kill him. The second has lost everything except his tainted family name. And the third learned the truth more than three years before she was technically supposed to. Lily and Sirius have their hands full - once these three turn eleven, Hogwarts won't know what hit it. Twisted canon.
1. October 31, 1981

**A/N: Hello & welcome to my new story! This "twisted canon" fic will (eventually) encompass all 7 years - I've already finished the first 2 chapters & would love to know what you think. J.K. Rowling owns everything Harry Potter-related, I'm just playing with some ideas of my own. Thanks in advance for reading, & I hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

"James, stop that! You're going to get Harry all worked up before bed!" Lily Potter tried to make her voice sound disapproving, but it was hard not to smile at the endless giggles coming from her son.

"Aww, but he loves it, don't you, Harrykins?" her husband chuckled, expelling another wave of colorful bubbles from the end of his wand as the black-haired child continued to roar with laughter.

"Of course he does, but it's time for bed," Lily said, bending down to scoop Harry up. "Come now, love, time to sleep." When Harry made a discontented noise and began to squirm, she cooed, "Hush, sweetheart. If you're a good little boy, Mummy will read you a bedtime story." At these magic words, Harry immediately stilled - he loved having his mother read to him.

"Night, Harry," James said softly, tilting his head to give his son a kiss. "Be a good boy for Mummy, yeah?" Harry sighed happily in response, and James leaned over to kiss his wife.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Lily said, giving him a small smile.

"I'll be waiting. Love you."

"Love you too."

Lily made her way slowly up the stairs of their small home and down the hall to Harry's room. After placing him carefully in his crib and wrapping his blankets around him, she took a seat in her favorite rocker and began to speak softly.

"High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune..." Lily was a Muggle-born herself, but James had introduced her to _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ when Harry was born, and she told them to her son just as often as _Cinderella_ and _Sleeping Beauty._ _The Fountain of Fair Fortune, _happy little story that it was, was one of her favorites, and as she began weaving the tale of the three witches and the luckless knight who accompanies them on their journey, she watched her son's eyes slowly begin to droop. By the time the main characters had reached the fountain, Harry was sound asleep. Lily smiled, strode to the crib, and gently stroked her son's hair.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered. "Mummy loves you."

All of a sudden, she heard a massive crash from downstairs. It sounded like the front door when Padfoot flung it open too carelessly - but Padfoot wouldn't be barging in at this hour, would he? Then she heard something that made her blood run cold:

"Lily!" James shouted. "It's him! Go - take Harry and run!"

"Oh my God..." Lily whispered. They had ignored the warnings, insisted that their secret was safe, and now it was coming back to haunt them. Lord Voldemort had found them at last.

Lily paused for merely a second before making her decision. There was no point in trying to help James - Voldemort was clearly in the house, so if her husband wasn't already dead, he would be in a matter of minutes. James had always had a bad habit of leaving his wand out of reach, and Lily had no reason to believe he'd done any differently when she'd gone upstairs. She forced herself not to think about it and raced silently back down the hall - she had to get her son to safety, no matter what.

"Come on, Harry love, we've got to go," she said softly, scooping the child up into a makeshift pouch she hastily constructed from his blankets. He settled into her chest but didn't stir, but Lily knew she didn't have much time - she could hear Voldemort systematically tearing apart the sitting room, no doubt searching for her, and although Harry had always been a heavy sleeper, the excessive noise would surely wake him soon. Adjusting her hold on her son, Lily wrenched open the window and kicked out the screen, crossing her fingers that the sounds of destruction still coming from below were enough to mask her own actions. Carefully, she crawled out onto the nearest branch of the tree that grew close to the house and began her descent. She had only managed to get herself a few feet lower than the window before Harry's bedroom door burst open, revealing a figure with snakelike features and gleaming red eyes.

"Give me the child, and you may go free," he said softly.

_"Never,_" Lily hissed, crawling to a lower branch as she spoke. Voldemort's eyes narrowed.

"So be it, then." He raised his wand. _"Avada Kedavra!"_

Lily ducked just in time, and the deadly green jet sailed into the tree inches above her head with an angry sizzling sound. Wrapping one hand protectively around Harry, Lily swung herself to the next branch and dropped the last several feet to the ground, whipping out her wand as she did so. She didn't understand why Voldemort wasn't following her - if the Fidelius Charm had failed, surely the Apparition wards were also down, and he could've easily blocked her path - but she wasn't complaining. She tried turning on the spot and had her question answered immediately - the anti-Apparition wards surrounding the Potter property were still intact. As quickly as she could, Lily began running towards the fence surrounding her lawn, throwing curses over her shoulder as she did so - if she could just get over the fence, she could Apparate to safety.

When Lily was about ten feet from the fence, she stopped and faced the house once more. Voldemort was still staring at her through Harry's window.

"Last chance, you silly girl!" he called. "Hand over the child!"

"Never!" Lily shouted back. "I will die before I give up my son!" Both raised their wands at the same time.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Confringo!"_

The spells collided and rebounded on the house, triggering a massive explosion that caused half the roof to cave in. Lily could barely see through the smoke, but she turned and raced towards the fence once more. She vaulted the wooden barrier and knew a single, gut-wrenching pain for James as she turned on the spot and vanished.

The house that appeared before her was dark and foreboding looking, but Lily knew there was no safer place for her to be - Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was heavily protected, with Dumbledore himself as Secret-Keeper. Without a backward glance, she rushed up the front steps and pounded on the door as hard as she could. Moments later, the heavy door opened to reveal a handsome young man, thick black locks framing his gray eyes.

"Lily, what's up?" Sirius Black asked, flashing his signature roguish smile. "We weren't expecting you tonight!" The grin vanished as he took in Lily's expression, thrown into relief by the street lamps, and the burden she carried.

"Lily, what's wrong? Where's James?" he asked urgently.

"Can I...can I come in please, Padfoot?" Lily had somehow managed to keep her cool until now, but her legs were beginning to shake and her lip to tremble.

"Yes, of course," Sirius replied.

"Is anyone else here?" Lily asked.

"There's a group of us in the kitchen," came the answer. "Lily, what the hell is going on? You've just shown up on my doorstep at ten o'clock at night looking like you've seen a ghost."

"Not yet, please," Lily begged. "I can only tell this once." Sirius gave her a concerned look but nodded and led the way to the basement kitchen, where several people sat chatting around the large wooden table. The laughter and talk ceased instantly when the group caught sight of Lily.

"Lily, what's wrong?" Remus Lupin demanded, echoing his friend's earlier statement. "Where's James?" Lily braced the hand not clutching her son against the table and took a deep breath, willing herself to hold back the tears for just a bit longer. Her shoulders began to shake and she found she could only manage three words:

"He found us." Unable to hold herself together any longer, Lily collapsed into the nearest chair and began sobbing. Nobody needed any further explanation to know what had happened.

"Oh, _Merlin,"_ Remus whispered. "James..."

"I'll kill him," Sirius growled. "That bastard was their Secret-Keeper, and he betrayed them! He sold them to Voldemort! Only ever did anything when he could see the benefit for himself, the slimy little rat..."

"Sirius, that's enough," Dumbledore said sharply. "We will deal with Pettigrew later. Right now, we have a more pressing problem." He gestured towards Lily, who was still crying steadily into Remus' chest as he attempted to console her.

"Obviously, Voldemort went after the Potters for a reason. What that reason is, we don't know for certain, but Lily and Harry need protection, and quickly. I had a feeling that something like this might happen, and I have already begun several arrangements - I must return to Hogwarts to finalize some things, but I will be back in the morning, and we will discuss what must be done. In the meantime, no one is to leave this house, least of all you or Remus - we cannot guarantee that Voldemort will not send Peter after you in an attempt to learn of Lily and Harry's whereabouts. Peter never did have a strong mind, and Voldemort will know of his connections to you all."

_"Former_ connections," Sirius muttered. "I will _not_ have myself associated with the scum who as good as murdered my best friend!"

"Whatever you want to call it, Voldemort will still know," Dumbledore said gently. "The best thing you can do right now is be there for Lily - she will no doubt feel she has to stay strong for her son, but she needs to let it all go if she's to make it through this. She'll need your help."

"We'll do our best, Albus," Remus said, coaxing Lily to stand.

"Thank you. I can't ask any more of you at this time." With a nod, Dumbledore swept from the room.

* * *

The next morning, Lily awoke to find herself in a familiar bed she recognized as belonging in one of the guest rooms at Grimmauld Place. The room's color scheme and uppity decor screamed of Padfoot's pureblood heritage, but her friend had gone to lengths to make the room more welcoming since his mother had died and he'd inherited the house - Quidditch posters littered the walls, and a photograph from Harry's first birthday party held a place of honor next to the door. James had an arm around Lily, and Harry was perched on Padfoot's shoulders, a ridiculous grin plastered on his cake-smeared face. Lily smiled softly at the happy child's living counterpart, who was curled up next to her on the bed, snoring gently. She smoothed back the stray hairs that stuck up on top of his head, hair that was so much like James' - oh, _James. _She let out a dry sob and sucked in her breath. She'd cried herself to sleep the night before, but crying wouldn't bring James back, and he wouldn't have wanted her to curl up into herself like she was doing. James would have wanted her to fight back like the Gryffindor she was, to do her part to ensure he hadn't died in vain. Squaring her shoulders, Lily vowed to do just that - James was gone, but she still had Harry, and he needed her.

As if sensing his mother's thoughts, Harry stirred, yawning widely as he opened his bright green eyes. He grinned at the sight of Lily gazing down at him and reached up to hug her. Cradling him to her chest, Lily kissed his head and made her way down to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

"Morning, Lil," Sirius greeted her. "Sleep alright?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," she replied with a shrug. She placed Harry in the high chair Sirius kept especially for him and accepted the mug of coffee her friend offered her, taking a long sip and sighing as the hot liquid warmed her insides.

"I made some eggs - they're not quite as good as Moony's, but at least they're edible."

"Thank you."

"Lil, answer me honestly," Sirius said as he joined her. "Are you okay?" Lily sighed heavily.

"No, not really," she answered, fiddling with her fork, "but moping around isn't going to do me any good. Don't get me wrong, I'm devastated, but James wouldn't have wanted me to fall apart. We've lost plenty of other good people and still gone on fighting, and I intend to do my part - my son will grow up knowing his father's story, and hopefully he'll do so in a world without Voldemort." Her green eyes, so very like her son's, blazed fiercely as she spoke.

"That's our Lily," Sirius said fondly, reaching over and patting her arm. "Just be careful, yeah? We all know what Voldemort's capable of - Harry's already lost his dad; we can't have him losing his mum, too."

"I will," Lily promised. She glanced around the kitchen, which was unoccupied save the three of them. "Albus was here last night?"

"Mhmm." Sirius nodded and swallowed a mouthful of pumpkin juice before continuing. "He said he thought something like this might happen - I dunno if he meant to you specifically, or to the Order in general - and that he's been making preparations for a while. He's going to drop in sometime today to talk to you."

"Works for me," Lily said. Harry babbled something and smacked his toast against his tray, as if in agreement.

"Just as vocal as always, I see," someone said with a chuckle. Turning in their seats, Sirius and Lily met the gaze of Albus Dumbledore. The old wizard joined them at the table, turning his bright blue eyes to Lily.

"I know it's hardly any consolation, but I'm sorry for your loss, my dear," he said quietly. "James was a fine young man."

"Thank you, Albus," Lily said. "I wish his time hadn't been so soon."

"I thought you might like to have this." Dumbledore reached into his robes and withdrew a small golden band, which Lily immediately recognized as her husband's wedding ring.

"How did you get this?" she whispered.

"Lily, did you really think we'd leave James' body to be desecrated by the Death Eaters? A small team went to your house last night, not long after you arrived here. James is safe at Hogwarts for the time being - I assume you'd like to lay him to rest in Godric's Hollow, where he belongs, but we'll have to wait until it's safe to do so. They also rescued your cat - I believe she's upstairs in your room waiting for you."

"Sasha made it out?" Lily said with a small chuckle. "Harry will be happy; he adores her." She reached out and patted the older wizard's hand. "Thank you, Albus, so very much. This means a lot to me."

"Of course." He offered her a small smile. "Now, we must discuss the matter of what comes next. You can't stay here, I'm afraid - Headquarters is safe enough, to be sure, but it's no place for a child." Lily shook her head in agreement.

"No, you're right. Harry needs a place he can grow up. No offense," she added quickly, shooting a glance at Sirius. He let out a bark-like laugh.

"None taken," he said flippantly. "If I were him, I wouldn't want to grow up here either. What did you have in mind, Dumbledore?"

"If you're open to the idea, I can offer you a safe house in a Muggle town near Little Whinging," Dumbledore said.

"So close to my sister?" Lily asked, making a face. "Albus, she hates me."

"Hate is a strong word," he cautioned. "Petunia may have hard feelings towards you, to be sure, but she is still your sister, and I highly doubt she genuinely hates you. Whether you choose to reach out to her is your decision alone, but I would feel better knowing you were near to someone you knew. Arabella Figg also lives just a few streets away from Privet Drive, which would put you in contact with the Order almost instantly should you need us."

"That's not a bad idea, Lil," Sirius admitted. "Ara's not a top-priority Order member, and the fact that she's a Squib means Voldemort has never given her a second look - I don't even think he knows she exists." He looked towards Dumbledore, who confirmed this statement with a nod.

"Arabella Figg has always been good at lying low," he said. "She would be a perfect contact for you, not to mention you know how she adores Harry." He smiled at the black-haired boy, who was busy smearing porridge on his tray.

"Would this house be under the Fidelius?" Lily asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "and I would be your Secret-Keeper. Until we uncover Voldemort's agenda, I'm taking no chances. I would like you to reside in this safe house as well, Sirius."

"Me?" the younger man asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Why me?"

"Several reasons," Dumbledore said. "First, very few people know that Lily and James changed Secret-Keepers at the last minute - to be fair, not many knew who their _original_ Secret-Keeper was, but I'd rather not take any chances. We cannot be sure that Peter hasn't already told Voldemort of your involvement, nor can we be certain that there aren't any other spies in the Order. Until such time as we determine otherwise, I'd feel better knowing you were protected. Besides, Harry's going to need a father-figure in his life, and as Remus has to deal with his..."

"Furry little problem?" Sirius suggested, his eyes sparkling playfully.

"Yes, his 'furry little problem'," Dumbledore chuckled. "As Remus has to deal with that and will be spending a great deal of time recruiting in werewolf camps throughout the country, you are certainly the best person for the job. Harry already knows you well, so I don't think he'll think much of it if you're around a bit more."

"Like he wasn't already over for dinner every other day," Lily smirked. "I think it's perfect."

"You can certainly still do work for the Order," Dumbledore continued when he saw the doubt still lingering on Sirius' face. "I have no objection to that - I'd just like your primary assignment to be Harry."

"Oh, what the hell," Sirius said with a grin. "Any time I get to spend with my godson is good by me."

"Watch your mouth," Lily said, smacking his arm playfully. "There's a child present!"

"Sorry, Harry!" Sirius called jovially, and Harry squealed and tossed his spoon to the floor, laughing hysterically.

"That sounds like it's settled, then," Dumbledore said. "Let's finalize a couple of things, and then we can get you in there as soon as the Fidelius Charm is in place."


	2. Narcissa's Request

**A/N: J. K. Rowling owns everything you recognize. Enjoy! :)**

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, poring over a heavily detailed piece of parchment. The plans for the added wards were complicated, but necessary – the latest crop of Hogwarts students would be arriving soon, and protecting them was his first priority.

The old wizard sighed as he reread the protective charms he'd soon be casting. So much had happened since James Potter had died, nearly three years ago now. Voldemort himself had completely disappeared not long after, but nobody was foolish enough to believe he was dead – Tom Riddle had been a formidable wizard during his time at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore knew he would never have vanished so easily, not when his plans had been going so well. His failure to dispose of the entire Potter family was nothing more than a small hiccup in the grand scheme of things, and Dumbledore had no doubt that Voldemort was merely biding his time. In the meantime, his more adventurous followers continued with their sporadic attacks – Frank and Alice Longbottom had suffered a fate worse than death when they'd been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange, and just last night, a small group had ransacked a village far too close to Hogsmeade for his liking. There had been no mass murders since Voldemort's departure, but these little instances were almost worse, and certainly far more personal.

A sharp tapping sound drew his gaze to the window, where a regal-looking owl hovered in wait, a letter clutched in its beak. Dumbledore let the bird in and relieved it of its burden; the owl ruffled its feathers importantly and accepted a drink from the bowl the headmaster kept expressly for this purpose. He quickly read through the message, blinked, and read it again.

"Well, well," he murmured, absentmindedly stroking his long beard as he reached for his quill, "this could make things very interesting indeed." He quickly penned a response and sent the owl on its way, then sat back to ponder the curious turn of events the letter implied.

* * *

Early the following afternoon, Sirius and Lily Flooed to Hogwarts. Both were extremely confused at the summons Dumbledore had sent the previous day, and he'd refused to tell them anything more when they'd asked, saying that it was not his place to do so. Their confusion only mounted when they entered the headmaster's office to find Dumbledore in the company of a proud, haughty woman Lily only knew by sight.

"Narcissa?" Sirius asked. "Albus, what on earth…"

"Have a seat please, Sirius, Lily," Dumbledore requested. "Rest assured you will know what is going on in due time. In the meantime, may I offer you some tea?" He gestured towards the tea tray resting on his desk, and Lily and Sirius, sensing they might be there a while, helped themselves. Once they were settled, Narcissa spoke.

"Thank you for taking time to meet with me today," she said, upper-class manners evident in her speech.

"We didn't know we were meeting with you," Lily replied honestly.

"You probably wouldn't have come if you had," came the response. After a slightly awkward pause, Narcissa continued, "Allow me to be frank, Mrs. Potter-"

"Lily, please."

"Alright, then. Allow me to be frank, Lily. We were not in the same year at Hogwarts, nor did we run in the same circles. I would be lying if I said we were on the same side of this war – we're not. But believe it or not, we do have something in common."

"You do?" Sirius asked, looking thoroughly confused.

"Yes, we do," Narcissa said, her tone just a shade colder as she regarded her cousin. "We have children." She shifted slightly, and Lily noticed the blonde little boy for the first time. He was fast asleep across a chair, his head resting in his mother's lap.

"My son, Draco," Narcissa said, stroking the fine hairs on the child's head with a pale hand as she regarded him fondly. "I believe he is the same age as your boy."

"Yes, I think you're right. Harry turned four in July," Lily confirmed.

"Draco was four in June. I believe I am also correct in saying that you would do anything for your son?"

"Of course she would," Sirius said, frowning slightly. "Why else would she have risked her life to get him out when your dear master came calling?"

"He is not my master!" Narcissa hissed, and both her companions recoiled slightly at her uncharacteristic display of emotion. Taking a deep breath, Narcissa said, "I cannot deny that my husband took the Mark. I cannot deny that we have been sympathetic to the Dark Lord's cause for some years. But let me make one thing quite clear – I will _never_ let any harm befall my son." She turned her attention to Lily.

"Allow me, if I may, to give you a bit of background. When the Dark Lord left Britain shortly after your husband's death, the situation for his followers deteriorated rapidly. Many believed him dead or thought he had abandoned them, and they began to turn on each other. Those who are not in Azkaban secretly wish they were – though they'd be in prison, they'd at least be somewhat safe. Those in the Dark Lord's inner circle especially are questioning each other's loyalties, and things are getting ugly – a man called Yaxley is dead, and my husband…" Narcissa paused, and Lily was alarmed at the brief shudder of fear running through the blonde witch.

"My husband is insane," she almost whispered. "Bellatrix, my own sister, turned her wand on him last week. He now has only fleeting moments of clarity – the rest of the time, he barely knows his own name. He does not recognize anyone when he's not himself – he nearly killed Draco in a fit of uncontrolled magic yesterday." A single tear leaked from Narcissa's right eye, and Lily felt her heart go out to the older woman.

"I love my husband, but it is nothing compared to the love I feel for my son," Narcissa said softly. "I would do anything – _anything _– to keep him safe. It is no secret that Lucius wished for the Dark Lord to groom Draco for service in his inner circle, but the events of the past week have changed everything. I was unable to keep my contempt for my sister's actions in check, unable to hide my distress as I lost my husband, and I fear I will pay for it dearly. They know of my hesitation, and uncertainty has no place in the Dark Lord's ranks."

"What are you saying, Narcissa?" Lily asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly. She couldn't bear the thought of the child before her being subjected to such horrors.

"I do not expect to survive the week," Narcissa said bluntly. When Lily gasped, Narcissa held up her palm, silently asking her to stay quiet until she'd finished. "I do not bear the Mark – I am merely the wife of a Death Eater. Now that that Death Eater is so severely broken, however, I am nothing more than a liability. I have proven quite clearly that my love for my family supersedes my loyalty to the Dark Lord, and that just isn't done – in his eyes, you are his completely, or you die. I am prepared to face my fate, but I _cannot_ let him take my boy. Surely you understand that?"

"I do," Lily nodded. "I would do the same for Harry in a heartbeat. But how do you intend to make sure that Draco doesn't fall into Voldemort's hands when you're…"

"Dead?" Narcissa let out a dry laugh. "I do not fear what is coming for me. And as for your question, if you're agreeable to the suggestion, I intend to give my son to you."

"To _me?" _Lily asked, flabbergasted.

"To you, and to Sirius. Normally, were something to happen to Lucius and myself, Draco would pass to my immediate family – however, as Bellatrix not only worships the Dark Lord, but was the one who put us in this predicament in the first place, that obviously cannot happen."

"You have another sister," Sirius reminded her.

"Andromeda essentially ceased to be my sister when she married nearly fifteen years ago," Narcissa countered. "Do you really think she'd be so agreeable if I were to dump something like this on her so abruptly? In retrospect, I do regret severing contact with her, but that route isn't possible. Besides, she has a daughter of her own to care for, plus a full career – asking someone in her situation to take on another child, especially _my_ child, would be too much. Your brother" – here she nodded at Sirius – "as well as mine and Lucius' parents, are all deceased, and Lucius has no siblings, which leaves you as Draco's closest living relative."

"Haven't you forgotten that I'm just as much a family traitor as Andromeda?" Sirius asked.

"No, I haven't," Narcissa conceded, "but my concern for my son supersedes that. He needs to be with family, and he needs to be with someone who can protect him. You are the only person who fits those requirements."

"Sirius, how can we say no?" Lily asked softly, gazing at the still sleeping boy. "We're basically sending him to his death if we refuse."

"I don't want to refuse," Sirius acknowledged. "He is my cousin's child, after all. I'm just a little in shock that she actually wants this." He glanced up at Narcissa again, who gave him a sad smile, then looked over at Dumbledore.

"If you're still worried, Narcissa confessed all of this to me yesterday, under the influence of Veritaserum," Dumbledore said quietly. "I can assure you that her story, and her concern, are genuine." Sirius nodded.

"We'll do it," he said.

"Thank you," Narcissa said quietly. "I could never die in peace if I knew my son were in danger." She reached into her cloak and withdrew a small stack of parchment.

"These are for Draco," she said, handing them over. "The first is a letter I'd like him to have on his eleventh birthday, and the second contains the details of his inheritance – he has unrestricted access to our family vault, the key of which is in that envelope, and everything in the Malfoy name becomes his when he turns seventeen. There's no need to worry about signatures – I had Lucius sign everything in one of his rare moments of sanity yesterday – and as Draco is the last living Malfoy, you should never have a problem with anyone else attempting to claim what is rightfully his." She gestured towards a carpetbag at her feet. "This contains all of Draco's things – there's an Undetectable Extension Charm on the bag, so you won't feel the weight. I certainly wasn't about to place the burden of his expenses on you."

"You brought everything with you, as if you already knew we would take him," Lily said.

"But of course I did," Narcissa replied, "because I am speaking not to a woman on the other side of a war, but to a fellow mother, one who has already proven that her love for her son rivals that of mine.

"I have one last request – it is ultimately up to Draco to choose what name he takes when he's older, but for now, I'd feel more comfortable knowing he's a Black – the last of the Malfoys is as good as dead, and Black is not quite as distinct a surname, if you understand my meaning."

"Of course," Lily agreed. Narcissa brought forth a final piece of parchment.

"This contract will make you my son's legal guardians, effective upon my death," she said. "Albus, will you consent to be our witness?"

"Of course, Narcissa." The usual spark in the older wizard's blue eyes seemed to have gone out.

After they'd signed and magically sealed the contract, Narcissa slowly extracted herself from her chair, taking care not to disturb her son. In an act that surprised them all, she fiercely embraced both Lily and Sirius.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "My son is safe – I can ask for nothing more."

"And we will do our best to keep him so," Lily promised, she also trying not to cry. "It's obvious you love him more than anything, and I will make sure he never forgets what you've done for him." Narcissa turned towards her son for the last time and hugged him tenderly.

"Make me proud, my darling," she whispered. "I love you – I always will." She placed the child in Lily's arms, did her best to replace her stoic façade, and disappeared. As soon as she'd gone, Lily crumpled to the floor, crying openly for the boy she held in her arms, the boy whose family had been destroyed by their own choices, the boy who only had a chance at a future once his parents were dead. In that instant, she resolved to give Draco what Narcissa could not – a warm home, a loving family, and the chance of a life untainted by darkness.

* * *

Three days later, the _Daily Prophet_ announced the death of Narcissa Malfoy, and her only son officially became a member of the Potter-Black household.


	3. The Next-Door Neighbor

**A/N: WOW - I was not expecting such a response after having the first bit up for only an hour! Thank you so much to Gray Blazar, Imightjustwishiwasaweasley, Moony0402, Musicluver225, SJHP, The Eclectic Bookworm, alegram, sthrnpanther06, whirlwind29, FairyTaleWolf6, & amberdee63 for the follows/favorites, & to Musicluver225 & The Eclectic Bookworm for the reviews! They all made me really happy.**

**Here's chapter 3 - time to meet the final member of our trio! JKR owns everything Potterverse; Phantom of the Opera is a musical by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, based on the book of the same name by Gaston Leroux. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

Lily hummed softly to herself as she made a cup of her favorite tea. Nobody else was in the house at the moment, and she was enjoying the rare bit of quiet. Of course, she wouldn't trade her unconventional family for anything in the world, but it was nice to have an occasional quick break from the loud conversations, scraped knees, and guaranteed trouble that followed them everywhere.

Padfoot, of course, was every bit as mischievous as he'd been at school, and he seemed determined to make sure his adopted children were highly trained in the art of marauding before they went off to Hogwarts. He thoroughly enjoyed playing pranks on everyone whenever he could, and he encouraged the boys to retaliate – if they could think of something clever, that is. Granted, at the tender age of seven, Harry and Draco hardly came up with anything elaborate or even remotely sneaky, but their attempts were fun to watch.

Harry was looking more and more like James every day – while the constant reminder of her deceased husband made Lily sad, she knew James would have been proud of the boy Harry had become. He was talkative, full of mischief, loved to have fun, and flew like a natural – he'd gotten his first real broom for his most recent birthday and was hardly seen without it. However, it was her son's inner qualities that made Lily smile the most – Harry was smart, polite, caring, and thoughtful. Being stuck in a safe house meant he didn't have too many people to interact with, but Lily could tell he'd be well liked when he went to Hogwarts – she wasn't being prideful; Harry was just that kind of person, and she couldn't have been happier.

In some ways, Draco was Harry's polar opposite – he was much more quiet and reserved, and he didn't jump into the pranks with quite the same gusto as his foster brother. Lily suspected he was still somewhat stuck in the world he'd inhabited in his earliest years, and it saddened her – living in the Death Eaters' headquarters had obviously had a profound impact on the boy, and it had taken nearly a year for her to get Draco to even talk without being afraid. It was a shame it was taking him so long to come out of his shell – he was unfailingly polite and incredibly intelligent, and what Lily wanted most was to see Draco really enjoying himself. He seemed to like flying, and he loved the music lessons she'd enrolled him in at the request of his mother, but a genuine smile from the boy was a rarity. It was a pity, really – Draco was an attractive child, as he'd inherited the Malfoys' fair coloring and the Blacks' classic good looks, and his beautiful smile only enhanced that image. Lily could only cross her fingers and hope that something would come along soon to help her out on that front.

Unbeknownst to Lily, that something – or rather, someone – was actually in her front yard at that very moment.

Draco was perched in the lowest branches of a tree near the front walk, deeply immersed in a book. He didn't hear the newcomer approach, and as such nearly fell out of the tree when she spoke.

"What are you reading?" Draco hastily grabbed hold of the nearest branch to steady himself and looked down. Standing at the base of his tree was a girl who looked to be about his age. She was wearing a flowered sundress and a worn pair of sandals, and she had an impressive quantity of thick brown hair, which was restrained in a plait that hung down between her shoulder blades. Her brown eyes peered up at him inquisitively, and she bit her lip after she'd spoken, revealing overly large front teeth. Disoriented by her appearance as he was, the only response Draco could manage was, "Who are you?" It came out rather ruder than he'd intended, and the little girl looked rather put out.

"I just asked what you were reading; no need to get offended," she huffed, sticking her nose in the air. She turned her back on him and made to leave.

"No, wait!" Draco called. "Don't go!" He hopped down from the tree, landing catlike on all fours, and stood up, crossing his arms as the girl turned back to face him again.

"Why shouldn't I?" she replied, placing her hands on her hips.

"I didn't mean to be rude, I'm sorry. You just…startled me, that's all." The girl's eyes widened slightly – this boy had an impressive vocabulary.

"Well, I'm sorry for startling you, then," she replied. She sat down on the grass, twirling the end of her plait around her finger as she gestured for Draco to join her.

"What's your name?" Draco asked as he leaned against the tree. "And where did you come from, anyway?" The girl laughed.

"I came from there," she said, pointing at the house next door. "We just moved in yesterday. As for my name – you can call me Lotte."

"Lotte…is that short for 'Charlotte'?" Draco asked.

"No – it's the nickname of a character from my mum's favorite musical," she said. Draco perked up at the last word, and the girl smiled. "Do you like musicals, then?"

"Haven't really heard many, to be honest, but I love music," Draco replied. "Which reminds me – I have my piano lesson soon, so you know I'm not being rude when I have to go."

"If you haven't heard many, you've _got_ to hear this one," Lotte said. "I'll be right back." She dashed off towards her house and returned a few minutes later with a portable cassette player in one hand and a pair of headphones in the other. She rewound the tape, pausing to listen a few times before she finally found what she was looking for, and handed the headphones to Draco.

"Just listen to that." Draco did as she said and was hooked within the first few notes – whatever this was, it was incredible.

"That was amazing," he said when the song ended. "I've never heard anything like it! But I didn't hear anything about anyone called 'Lotte'."

"That's because she's only called Lotte in one song – this one," the girl replied, rewinding the cassette even further. "Her real name is Christine."

"Well, that's not confusing at all," Draco muttered, but he accepted the headphones again without complaint. This song was light and airy in the beginning, with much darker tones as it progressed – if he had to hazard a guess, Draco would say the two males in the song didn't like each other very much. Even with the darker nuances, however, Draco still found himself hanging on to every word, and he was disappointed when the track ended.

"We'll have to listen to the rest of it sometime," Lotte said.

"Yeah, sure." Draco paused to look at his watch. "I have to go in for my lesson now, but maybe we can play later?"

"I have to help unpack later – but I could do tomorrow," she replied, smiling slightly.

"Tomorrow sounds good."

"You never told me your name," Lotte said suddenly as Draco was standing to leave.

"Well, what makes you think I'm going to tell you my real name when you haven't told me yours?" he asked with a slight smirk. Laughing a little at the look on her face, Draco said, "Call me Dragon." He supposed it wasn't nearly as creative as Lotte's nickname, but it was accurate, at any rate – he knew enough astronomy to know that.

"Alright, then," Lotte said, giving him another smile. "See you later then, Dragon."

"Later, Lotte." Draco answered the smile with one of his own and made his way back to his own house. When he got to the front stoop he turned in time to see Lotte wave, and he smiled again as he opened the door and went inside.

"Oh, hello Draco," Lily said as Draco came into the kitchen. "I was just about to come get you – Mrs. Peterson should be here any minute. Who's your new friend?"

Draco felt his cheeks heat up at Lily's question – he hadn't realized she'd seen what was going on. He should've known – she hardly missed anything that went on around here, after all – but it was still a little embarrassing to have been caught talking to a girl. Even more embarrassing was the fact that he couldn't really answer, as he didn't know Lotte's real name.

"Um…she and her mum and dad just moved in next door," he said.

"What's her name?" Lily asked.

"Um…"

"Draco Black, do you mean to tell me you were so busy chatting up the little girl that you didn't ask her name?" Lily said teasingly. When Draco turned a shade of pink that she was impressed his fair complexion could even produce, she smiled and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm glad you were having fun," she said sincerely. "Maybe we can all go over and meet her properly tomorrow." Draco nodded, and Lily smiled to herself when he returned her hug, something he'd rarely done before. Whoever this little girl was, she'd already worked wonders on Draco, and Lily was beyond grateful. Maybe she was just what Draco needed.

The next day, Draco learned that his Lotte's real name was not Christine, but Hermione Granger. They'd met at the age of seven, but it would be quite a while yet before he'd realize just how important she really was to him.


	4. The Truth Comes Out, and the Fun Begins

**A/N: Thank you to LylitheNocturnal, NyeThomas, Solar Blue Rose, aespopd, btvs22, dianaanne, Dark Yellow Dino, Far Away In Wonderland, GoodLuckHuntress, KodeV, Leslie93, TIGGRAIN, branwen-s, firefly81, ladilyn, maplezhar, ratmgrlly, shadowsong, eyesofhazel, & l0stinl0ve for the follows/favorites, & thanks to dianaanne & Musicluver225 for the reviews! (I know that's a long list, but I really do appreciate every single one!)**

**Here's chapter 4 - JKR owns everything you recognize. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

Draco and Harry spent nearly every hour of every day with Hermione for the next several weeks. While Lily was thrilled that the boys had such a wonderful new friend, there was the potential for major trouble - the Grangers were Muggles, and so Lily was constantly on the alert, trying her best to keep awkward or inexplicable situations from arising. Unfortunately, Hermione was an exceptionally observant, very bright child, and more often than Lily would've liked, something happened that she couldn't cover up. She didn't blame the boys, of course - it wasn't their fault somebody had forgotten to turn off the wireless, which was therefore announcing Quidditch scores and playing the Kneazles' newest hit single when the three children walked in for lunch one Saturday. The Quaffle got left out a few times, the Daily Prophet didn't make it into the rubbish bin, Harry had a minor burst of accidental magic...the list went on. Lily certainly didn't want to have to tell the boys that they couldn't play with Hermione anymore, but she was afraid that one of them might accidentally do something major that she couldn't explain, and then what would she do?

"I don't want to have to tell them they can't," Lily said to Sirius one afternoon. The children were engaged in a highly animated game of tag in the backyard, laughing loudly as they chased each other across the lawn. Hermione shrieked as Harry tackled her to the ground, and Draco, who was running full tilt towards them, tried to stop but tripped and ended up falling on top of them. Consumed by giggles, the three rolled off each other to lie side by side on the grass, occasionally pointing out something in the sky that neither of the adults could see.

"I don't either, Lil," Sirius replied. "She's done wonders for them, especially Draco." It was true - Draco had become a completely different person overnight. He was still a tad more reserved than Harry, but he no longer hesitated to join in on whatever fun might be happening, and seeing him smile was no longer unusual. He and Hermione spent hours immersed in her cassettes - they'd snapped the band of her headphones in half so they could listen at the same time - and he jumped into more than one pickup Quidditch game with Harry and Sirius. The change was incredible, and both adults knew the boy would be devastated if he had to separate himself from Hermione.

"What are we going to do?" Lily asked. "Her parents are dentists, Padfoot. There's no way they know about our world, and we know we can't tell them." Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Why don't we ask Albus? Isn't he supposed to be coming for tea sometime this week?"

"That's a brilliant idea," Lily agreed. "If anybody will know how to handle this, it'll be him."

* * *

The day of Albus' visit arrived, and Lily asked the Grangers if they minded if the boys stayed with them for the afternoon. As the three children already went back and forth freely between the houses as if they were one building instead of two, the Grangers readily agreed, and Hermione was already chattering away about everything they were going to do as she led the boys towards her front door.

"Mind your manners, and have fun!" Lily called. Harry and Draco turned and waved, and Lily sighed as she closed her own door. Whatever solution Albus might propose, she knew it'd never be enough - at the end of the day, somebody was going to end up heartbroken.

It was a quarter to four when she heard a knock on the front door, and she opened it to find the old wizard waiting patiently on her front stoop, examining the mailbox as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Good afternoon, Lily," he said pleasantly. "Might I ask what object I gave you on the morning of the first of November, 1981?"

"My husband's wedding ring," Lily replied. She wasn't at all surprised at the question - in these dark times, it was extremely foolish not to exercise such precautions. "The incident that occurred the last time we met for tea?"

"Harry nearly killed your cat racing around on that broom of his and hurt his wrist in the process, after you'd expressly forbidden him to ride it in the house," Dumbledore chuckled. He'd lost track of how many times Lily had issued such a warning - the particular incident of which he spoke was certainly not the first time the cat had had to run for its life, and he seemed to recall that Harry had once smashed a vase gifted to Lily by her sister when he was barely a year old.

"Indeed he did - I still can't decide if it's a good thing how closely he emulates his father," Lily said, rolling her eyes. "Do come in." Sirius joined them in the sitting room, and soon the three were settled in with steaming teacups and an array of sweets.

After several minutes of playing catch-up - it was always good to hear news of the rest of the Order - Lily decided to broach the subject that had been concerning her since the beginning of August.

"Albus, we've recently had a new family move in next door - a young couple probably close to our age. They have a daughter - she's seven, just like the boys, and they're all quite taken with each other."

"Well, that's wonderful then, isn't it?"

"Albus - she's a Muggle. I've lost track of how many times something's almost happened, and Hermione - that's the little girl - is so smart that I'm afraid she's going to start asking questions I can't answer."

"We don't want to tell the boys they can't see her," Sirius added, "especially not when she's somehow gotten Draco to finally come out of his shell, but what else can we do? We can't risk the Statute of Secrecy."

"What did you say the child's name was?" Dumbledore asked. Lily and Sirius looked at each other, both slightly confused.

"Her name is Hermione," Lily said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It might have everything to do with anything," Dumbledore replied. "Her surname?"

"Granger."

"Ah..." Dumbledore's blue eyes lit up at Lily's reply, their usual twinkle exceptionally prominent. "As I suspected - nothing to worry about at all."

"Albus, what are you talking about?" Sirius asked. "The kid's name doesn't solve the Muggle problem."

"Ah, but it does," Dumbledore countered. "Her parents may be Muggles, but Miss Granger most certainly is not."

"Hermione's a witch?" Sirius asked sharply. "How do you know?"

"The book, of course," Dumbledore replied. When Lily and Sirius merely blinked at him, he said, "There is a book at Hogwarts that records the names of all new witches and wizards - in the case of those from Wizarding families, a child's name appears at birth, and when the child first performs accidental magic, the name inscribes itself permanently onto the records. If you were to examine this list, for instance, you would find both Harry's and Draco's names permanently listed as members of the future Class of 1998. However, the book also accounts for Muggle-born children and adds their names as their magic becomes apparent. I check these records almost daily - in this day and age, I'm sure you understand when I say I must be extra vigilant with regard to my Muggle-born pupils. Hermione Granger's name has been on that list since she was two."

"Two?" Sirius asked, his eyes wide. "That's impressive - kids don't usually show their magic that early, do they?"

"No, they do not," Dumbledore agreed, "and this burst was an exceptional one - nearly burned down half their old house, as I understand it. Of course, her parents have no idea what really caused the fire, but I can assure you that Miss Granger is a most promising child."

"Two..." Lily murmured, sounding awed. "Wow - Harry didn't have his first until just after his fourth birthday, and Narcissa said Draco was similar."

"Yes indeed - and I have no doubt both of your boys will prove themselves to be similarly singular pupils," Dumbledore said. "I quite look forward to seeing what these three can do once they get to Hogwarts." He paused to select a scone from the tea tray, then continued, "Normally, we don't inform Muggle-borns of the nature of their situation until it is time for them to get their Hogwarts letters - however, as that would prove more troublesome than anything else in this case, I intend to speak to the Grangers as soon as possible."

"Oh, Padfoot!" Lily exclaimed happily. "This means we won't have to separate the children after all!" She turned to Dumbledore, her eyes brimming with tears. "Thank you, Albus, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us."

"I rather think I do, but you're welcome all the same." The headmaster chuckled lightly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rather important letter to write."

* * *

The children were shocked when they found out Hermione was a witch, but the boys were as delighted as they were surprised. They no longer had to worry about hiding certain toys or censoring their conversations, and they immediately started going on about teaching Hermione to play Quidditch, or insisting that she listen to this or that popular Wizarding band, or chatting about their latest attempts at potion making with the kit Lily and Sirius had given Draco for his birthday. Hermione raised her eyebrows disbelievingly when Harry told her that Sirius could turn into a dog, and she nearly fainted when Sirius proved it.

"Can all witches and wizards do that?" she asked meekly. Sirius laughed and shook his head.

"No, Animagi are pretty rare - it's not an easy thing to do, and it can go horribly wrong if you try it without supervision."

"Hypocrite," Lily muttered so only he could hear her. He grinned sheepishly and she punched his arm. "Hermione, dear, don't let them overwhelm you. It's a big thing to get used to - I'm a Muggle-born too, you know."

"It's alright, Mrs. Lily," Hermione replied politely. "I really do want to learn all there is to know, it's so exciting!"

And so it was that Hermione Granger began her magical education. Once September came around, she began attending the local primary school, but when lessons were over, she went straight to the Potter-Black house. Lily and Sirius tutored the boys at home, and when Hermione joined them after school, the three children would sit around the kitchen table to do their homework. Once finished, they'd pass away the time until Hermione's parents got home introducing Hermione to all things magical. Much to the boys' chagrin, their friend wasn't the best on a broomstick - she could stay aloft just fine, and it didn't take her long to get the hang of flying in a circle or a straight line, but flying one-handed gave her some trouble, which meant it was hard to incorporate her into a Quidditch game. Hermione often got frustrated when this happened, and Draco and Harry enjoyed teasing her good-naturedly that they'd finally found something she couldn't do perfectly the first time she tried. Because it was true - Hermione might not have been good at Quidditch, but she excelled at nearly everything else, and her voracious appetite for reading meant that she was a regular walking encyclopedia of both Muggle and Wizarding knowledge.

* * *

Lily and Sirius hardly ever took the boys out in public - they were in a safe house for a reason, after all - but they did occasionally splurge on a Quidditch game or similar spot of fun, and they invited Hermione to join them at a match the following spring. Draco and Harry were avid Puddlemere United fans, and the annual game against the Heidelberg Harriers, a fiercely creative squad from Germany, was always one of the most highly anticipated matches of the season. Whether they were at the stadium or merely listening on the wireless, they dressed up in Puddlemere's colors and screamed encouragement for their favorite players, cheering when their team made a good play and booing when the Harriers did so.

On the morning of the match, Hermione went over to the Potter-Black house just before ten thirty and found the house in a state of chaos. Draco and Harry were running up and down the stairs at top speed as they frantically searched for their game-day clothes, and Sirius was double-checking the tickets while Lily attempted to finish packing their picnic lunch. An announcer's voice blared forth from the wireless - the man was interviewing Puddlemere's coach about the long-standing rivalry and his expectations for the match. Just as the announcer asked the coach about the superb new move his Chasers had supposedly been practicing, Harry tumbled down the last six stairs, having tripped over the cat, who shot across the living room to hide under the sofa, nearly taking down Hermione in the process.

"Oh, for God's sake, Harry James Potter!" Lily exclaimed. "We're not leaving for another hour, and we won't be going at all if you fall and break your neck!"

"Sorry, Mum," Harry muttered, flushing slightly.

"Are you alright?" she asked with a sigh.

"Yes."

"Alright then. Go finish up, and slow down!"

Finally, lunch had been packed, everyone was dressed to their satisfaction, and Lily had reminded them of their story. Just to be safe, whenever they went out in public, they assumed their middle names - or slight variations thereof, in Sirius and Draco's cases - and became Ryan and Christine White, with their sons Jamie and Lucas. Lily used a Glamour Charm to change Draco's platinum locks and her own red ones to a warm honey blonde - the slight alteration masked their most distinctive features and made them look enough alike that their family story was believable.

On the off chance that they ran into someone they'd seen at a previous match, a sister story wouldn't work, so Hermione would be posing as their cousin. She wasn't incredibly fond of her middle name, Jean - she liked that she was named for her great-grandmother but thought the old-fashioned name didn't suit her at all - and as Draco adamantly refused to let even Harry call Hermione 'Lotte', she twisted her first name slightly and became 'Maya' for the day.

"Jamie, Lucas, and Maya. Jamie, Lucas, and Maya," Sirius said, pointing to each of the children in turn as he repeated their aliases over and over. "I think I've got it."

"Ready?" Lily called. "Join hands, everyone." They did so, and with a crack like a whip, they vanished.

The atmosphere at the field was electric - though it was just a league match, the teams had been rivals since before anyone could remember, and the anticipation was almost palpable. Vendors selling souvenirs of all kinds shouted to get the crowd's attention, and performers entertained the spectators as they made their way into the stadium and settled into their seats. Harry fidgeted excitedly as he waited for the game to start, and Draco and Sirius took turns pointing out different things to Hermione as she intently examined her program. Lily passed out the sandwiches and flasks of juice she'd packed, and they munched contentedly on the food as the stands slowly began to fill.

Finally, it was time for the game to begin. The Puddlemere supporters cheered loudly as their team was introduced, and the noise level never once died down once the match started. Afterwards, Harry and Draco would agree that it was a superb first game for Hermione to see - both teams pulled off several truly spectacular plays, the Beaters kept the Bludgers rocketing around the pitch at top speed, and the game ended with a hair-raising dive that resulted in the Puddlemere Seeker just barely snatching the Snitch out from under his opponent's nose. Hermione might not have understood the finer points of the game, but she got into it anyway, jumping up and down with the rest of them when Puddlemere scored and throwing her arms around both boys in celebration when the game was over. The three were still chattering madly about the match long after they'd returned to Surrey, and as they waved goodbye with promises to attempt their own game the next afternoon, Lily couldn't help but smile at the wonderful turn of events that had brought Hermione Granger into their lives.


	5. The Most Magical of Ages

**A/N: Thank you to ChelleLovesHP, alyssa300, pagyn, power is knowledge, sharinalukofnak, such-a-cruel-contradiction, JustAWanderingStoryteller, Bad-Kitty-Kill, jalisawinkle, kymmy1, & meghankane946 for follows/favorites, & thanks to btvs22 & The Eclectic Bookworm for the reviews!**

**Here's chapter 5 - all things Potter belong to JKR. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Ugh! _Why_ do I have to be so much older than you?" Hermione groaned, flopping backwards onto her bed with an overly dramatic sigh. "It's not fair."

"We promised, Lotte…" Draco reminded her.

"I know, I know…but still. Now that I actually _am_ eleven, it seems like so much longer to wait!"

Harry and Draco exchanged glances and snorted at their friend's uncharacteristic impatience. Today was Hermione's eleventh birthday, and she'd been over the moon when she'd received her Hogwarts letter by owl that morning – as the Grangers were expecting the correspondence, Dumbledore had seen no reason why Hermione couldn't receive her letter like a Wizarding child would. However, she wouldn't be going to Diagon Alley for another ten months – aside from the fact that the adults thought it'd be wiser if they made the trip only once, the children had long since promised each other they'd wait until they could all go together. Now that Hermione really was eleven, however, that extra ten months seemed a rather long time.

"It's not like you'd be able to use your wand anyway," Draco told her. "Not with the Statute of Secrecy, restrictions on underage magic, and all that."

"No…but it was the books I was really looking forward to," Hermione muttered sheepishly. The boys laughed out loud at Hermione's admittance as she flushed a bright shade of pink – trust Hermione to want the books more than anything else.

"Well, we've got something that might tide you over till then," Harry said once he'd stopped laughing, and produced a thick, rectangular package from behind his back. Hermione's eyes widened as she accepted the gift.

"For me?" she asked, smiling brightly.

"Happy birthday!" Harry said. "Go on, open it!" With trembling fingers, Hermione carefully tore back the paper to reveal an enormous book bound handsomely in soft brown leather. Gold leaf trimmed the pages and matched the words stamped across the front: _Hogwarts, A History._ Opening the cover, Hermione found a short message inked across the first page:

_Dear Maya,_

_Happy 11__th__ birthday! We thought you might like to learn a little bit about your new home before you get there – we can't wait to share it with you!_

_With love from 'your boys'_

The message was clearly penned by a professional, if the beautiful calligraphy was anything to go by, but the boys had each signed their initials underneath for a personal touch. Hermione smiled at them, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and threw herself off the bed to give them each a hug.

"Thank you so much," she said softly, running her fingertips gently along the book's thick spine. "You guys are the best."

Most of those ten months passed by uneventfully, considering the circumstances. The children created a countdown to Draco and Harry's birthdays, which they hung in a prominent place in the Potter-Black kitchen – other than crossing off another number every night, however, there wasn't much they could do to make the summer come faster, so they made the most of their time in other ways. They attended a rainy Puddlemere match in March, this one against the Tutshill Tornados, and Hermione told the boys all about what she'd read in her new book. Lily and Sirius were adamant that Hogwarts should be a surprise, so none of the children had ever been before, and they spent hours speculating about all the wonderful things they'd find when they finally got to the castle in September.

Early June brought about Draco's eleventh birthday and all the excitement of a second Hogwarts letter, and before they knew it, the end of July was merely a week away.

"What do you think it'll be like – Diagon Alley, I mean?" Harry asked as the three lay on their backs the night before his birthday, gazing up at the stars.

"I don't know, but it's bound to be wonderful," Hermione said dreamily.

"I'm excited to get my wand," Draco added. "Not that we can use them yet, but still – that'll be when we know we're really wizards."

"And a witch!" Hermione piped up.

"And a witch," he conceded. "I can't wait." None of them said anything more, and it was only when Lily called them inside much later that they'd realized they were falling asleep right there on the back lawn.

The next morning, Harry awoke to find a great black dog sitting on his bed and regarding him with a goofy expression. The dog gave a loud bark and morphed into Sirius, who enveloped his godson into a hug.

"Happy birthday, Harry!" he said. "There's something on the kitchen table you might want to see." Without a word, Harry catapulted himself out of bed and downstairs, where he found a thick envelope of parchment waiting at his place setting. He let out a triumphant whoop as he opened the letter and turned to high-five Draco, who had followed him into the kitchen and looked a little sleepy but nevertheless excited.

"When can we go to Diagon Alley, Mum?" Harry asked eagerly as he read the letter again. He'd seen the message dozens of times, of course, in the context of Hermione and Draco's letters, but seeing his own name in the greeting made it infinitely more special.

"Patience, patience!" Lily scolded lightly, placing heaping platters of bacon and eggs on the table. "The Grangers probably aren't even awake yet!"

"Doubtful," Draco snorted. "Guarantee Hermione's been up since dawn."

"You're probably right," Lily said with a laugh, "but you're not going anywhere until you've had breakfast." She wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Happy birthday, sweetheart. I hope it's a good one." Harry smiled broadly.

"Thanks, Mum."

Two hours later, they were ready to leave. Hermione had indeed woken up very early, and she and the boys began talking excitedly almost instantly, the chatter hardly stopping all the way to London.

"Why are we taking the car, Mum?" Harry asked when they were about halfway there. A clever enlarging charm meant that all seven passengers fit comfortably into Lily's car with room to spare, but he didn't understand why they were taking Muggle transportation to a magical location.

"Because hooking up to the Leaky Cauldron's Floo would be rather risky, we obviously can't fly in broad daylight, and Side-Along Apparition makes no sense when we'll have lots to carry back with us," Lily replied. "Besides, the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron is in Muggle London, so we can just park nearby and either walk or take the Tube." Harry decided that the answer made sense and went back to his discussion with Draco and Hermione.

Finally, the group found themselves facing a shabby-looking pub. It was definitely the Leaky Cauldron – or at least, the sign above the door said it was – but the children thought they'd never seen anything so plain in their lives. Whatever the pub was famous for, it wasn't its paint job. However, they had a sneaking suspicion that the Muggles around them couldn't even see it at all, so it was with renewed excitement that they opened the door and stepped inside. They followed Sirius through the bar and out the back door into a small courtyard, where they found nothing but a brick wall and a rubbish bin. Sirius pulled out his wand, paused, and then tapped the wall above the trashcan. The brick he'd touched wiggled for a moment before vanishing completely, and the hole it left behind rapidly expanded until they were facing a large archway. As they stepped through, they found themselves on a cobbled street lined with shops, the windows of which were full to bursting with interesting things. Harry, Hermione, and Draco exchanged excited looks, positively shivering with delight – at long last, they were in Diagon Alley!

"First stop, Gringotts!" Sirius called. "This way, everyone!"

Gringotts, as the children already knew, was the Wizarding bank. The impressive building was carved from marble the color of snow, and the message engraved upon the inner doors warned them just how seriously Gringotts took their business. The children were a little wary of the goblins who ran the bank, Draco even more so when Sirius had to temporarily lift his Glamour Charm to confirm his identity when they asked for access to the Malfoy vault. Thankfully, they made their transactions without incident, and they were all glad to leave.

"Don't ever mess with goblins," Sirius said as they strode down the steps into the sun.

"Wasn't planning on it," Draco muttered.

The next few hours were spent exploring all the extraordinary shops Diagon Alley had to offer. They bought basic potions ingredients in the Apothecary and telescopes, cauldrons, and scales at the magical equipment shop next door. A trip to Eeylops Owl Emporium and the Magical Menagerie left each child with a pet – at first, Hermione was upset that her parents' Muggle status made it impractical for her to get an owl, but then she fell in love with a part cat, part Kneazle creature called Crookshanks, and the matter settled itself. In Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a kind older witch had fitted them for their Hogwarts uniforms, and they'd run into several others who looked to be about their age when they'd stepped into Quality Quidditch Supplies. First-year students weren't allowed to join the House teams, but it was still fun to ogle the newest racing brooms, and as their old Quaffle had recently fallen apart, they made sure to purchase a new one.

Hermione let out an audible squeak when they entered Flourish and Blotts, and though the boys couldn't help but laugh, they understood their friend's excitement – books of all sizes, shapes, and colors filled every available space from floor to ceiling. Some were as large as paving stones, while others could have easily fit in their Hogwarts envelopes, and many were in languages they didn't recognize. Their course books proved to be relatively normal in size, although some were rather thicker than others. As they lugged the heavy bags from the shop, they sincerely hoped the Hogwarts course schedules were such that they wouldn't be required to carry all of their books at once.

After enjoying a round of delicious sundaes at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, it was time to buy wands, and the children were practically bursting at the seams by the time they sighted the shop. Peeling gold letters above the door spelled out _Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C._ The shop was empty save for a lone chair that looked as though it had seen better days and thousands of thin boxes, which sat in neat stacks clear to the ceiling. No sooner had they all stepped inside did one of those boxes shake suddenly, emitting a stream of sparks as it did so.

"Well, well, well," said a soft voice. Harry and Hermione jumped, and Draco turned around so quickly he almost fell over. The speaker was an old man, his wide eyes closely examining the small group.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Potter," the man said, startling the children even further. How did he know who they were?

"Good afternoon," Lily replied calmly. "Children, this is Mr. Ollivander. You can trust him, don't worry."

"Ten and a quarter inches, willow, if I remember correctly," Mr. Ollivander said. Lily nodded.

"And still in fine working order, I might add."

"Your husband favored a mahogany wand, no?" Again a nod from Lily. Mr. Ollivander then turned his gaze upon the children. "And there is no doubt that this is your son," he said softly, gazing intently at Harry. "Not with those eyes."

"Yes, this is my son, Harry," Lily said. "And this-"

"Is Lucius and Narcissa's boy," Ollivander finished. "I'd heard from Dumbledore that he was with you." Draco was more than a little unnerved at the old man's perceptiveness. Lily seemed to trust him, but still…

"I take it there's a Glamour Charm in place?" Ollivander asked.

"Oh, yes – I forgot, I'm sorry." With a wave of her wand, Lily lifted the charms on herself and Draco, restoring their natural appearances. Draco gave her a shocked look – she _never_ took off those charms in public.

"We can't risk anything interfering while you're choosing your wand," Lily said by way of explanation.

"The resemblance is uncanny," Ollivander said softly, still peering at Draco. "There is no doubt that you're a Malfoy and a Black. Two very powerful magical families, very powerful indeed…" Turning his gaze to Hermione, he asked, "And who might you be, child?"

"Her- Hermione Granger, sir," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Welcome, Miss Granger." Mr. Ollivander then made his way over to the box that had reacted upon their entering the shop. He very gently opened the box and retrieved the wand from within, holding it out to Hermione.

"Vine wood with a dragon heartstring core, ten and three-quarter inches. If you'd be so kind."

Hermione felt a warm sensation in her fingertips as soon as the wood touched her skin. As if she'd been doing it all her life, she waved the wand, which let off a blast like a gunshot before pouring forth a fountain of sparks in half a dozen different colors.

"Beautiful!" Lily cried, and Hermione smiled widely.

"How did you know, sir?" she asked the wand maker.

"Wands are incredibly complex instruments, Miss Granger," he said. "The individual components used to make them all have different properties, which a wand maker must study in great depth if he is to craft the finest wands. Vine wood is not as commonly used as some others, but it is known to be extra sensitive with regards to a possible mate. As that wand reacted by merely being in your presence, I think it's safe to say we've found your match."

"But…won't that be problematic, if my wand's always reacting when I'm around?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Oh, you misunderstand me, dear child," Mr. Ollivander said with a chuckle. "The wand only did that to alert us to the potential connection – it was calling out to you, if you will. It's a one-time occurrence, I assure you." Hermione seemed satisfied with the answer and placed her wand gently back into its box.

"Mr. Malfoy next, I believe."

"I – I prefer Black, if you don't mind, sir," Draco said quietly. He probably would've been offended if anyone else had said it, but this man was too intimidating.

"Black it is, then. Let's see…" Mr. Ollivander procured a tape measure from his robes, which began measuring Draco of its own accord as the wand maker pulled various boxes from the shelves.

"As your match is clearly not made of vine, we'll have to do this the long way," he said, snapping his fingers to stop the tape. He opened a box and offered Draco the wand. Draco mimicked Hermione and gave it a wave, but nothing happened.

"Hmm…maybe not. This one, perhaps?" Mr. Ollivander suggested, taking back the first wand and handing over a second. The second and third wands proved as unresponsive as the first, but they hit the jackpot with the fourth, which Mr. Ollivander classified as "hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches precisely".

"And now we come to Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander said. As he'd done with Draco, he had the tape start measuring Harry while he selected several wands. Finding Harry's perfect match, however, proved far more difficult than it had for Hermione or Draco, and the pile of discarded wands grew larger as Harry tried different candidates for nearly ten minutes.

"Not to worry, Mr. Potter, we'll find it yet." The old wand maker seemed to be enjoying himself. He paused to pull a jet black box from the shelf. "I wonder…but wouldn't that be an awful coincidence…" He handed Harry the wand, which reacted to his touch just as Draco and Hermione's had.

"Well, then," Mr. Ollivander murmured. "That is…interesting."

"What is?" Harry asked, the smile that had formed on his face fading a little.

"I remember every single wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Your wand is eleven inches and made of holly with a phoenix feather core, a rather unusual combination. What makes it even more unique is that the phoenix who provided the feather gave me one other – just one other, mind you. I sold its brother over fifty years ago…and ten years ago, its brother…" He said no more but glanced at Lily, who seemed to understand.

"Oh, dear God," she murmured, her eyes widening slightly. Ollivander nodded.

"It is unfortunate, but true. Why this particular wand chose your son, I don't know – but I do know, Mrs. Potter, that we can expect great things from all three of these young people."

Harry, Hermione, and Draco all looked puzzled, and Lily looked at Sirius with a pained expression. Try as they might to put it off, they couldn't wait any longer – it was time to tell the children what they needed to know.


	6. What They Need to Know

**Thank you to Fader1209, Oliviaa Rose, fawkes18HPHG, WALIXELA, cassie2000, rmcguire, Jazziet, Alice Cullen-Potter, & TheGirlWhoIsInLoveWithJapan for your follows/favorites, & thanks to The Eclectic Bookworm, Kermit 304, sthrnpanther06, & Guest for your reviews!**

**Here's chapter 6 - JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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The drive back to Surrey was much more subdued than the drive to London - the children were contemplating everything Mr. Ollivander had said, and the adults, Lily and Sirius in particular, weren't looking forward to the conversation that had to happen when they got home. Hermione's parents weren't entirely sure what was going on, but they could tell from the worried looks on their friends' faces that this was something big.

When they arrived home, the group of seven made their way into the Potter-Black house, and once Harry and Draco had put their school things away, they all gathered in the sitting room.

"What exactly was Mr. Ollivander talking about, Mum?" Harry asked once they were all seated.

"And how did you know it was safe to take off the Glamour Charm?" Draco added.

"Mr. Ollivander is a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Lily said.

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Harry questioned.

"It's...first off, you have to understand that this isn't something you can take lightly," Sirius warned. "You're still kids, but this really is something you need to know before you head off to Hogwarts. Do you think you can handle that?" The children nodded seriously. Sirius was pretty sure they could - all three of them were very mature for their age - but it was still a very dark topic.

"In order for you to fully understand, we need to go back to the beginning, roughly fifty years ago now. There was a boy who attended Hogwarts in the 40s, and he was everything he ought to be - model student, prefect, Head Boy in his final year. He was polite to teachers, exceptionally bright...everyone knew he'd go far. But what they didn't know was that this boy had an unusual interest in the Dark Arts, an interest that only grew as he got older. The boy started amassing followers while he was still at school, and they stayed with him once they'd left the castle. They believed anyone who wasn't a pureblood - that is, anyone who didn't come from a fully magical background - was unworthy to study magic, going so far as to say that Muggle-borns must have stolen their magic from someone else."

"Well, that's ridiculous," Draco scoffed.

"You might think so - and I'm very glad you do," Sirius said, "but there are plenty of people who don't agree with you. This wizard and his followers, whom he called the Death Eaters, set out to rid the magical world of those they thought shouldn't be there - and I'm not going to sugarcoat it; they tortured and killed people." The children's eyes widened, and Draco went white at the words 'Death Eaters'.

"But...why?" Hermione asked. "Why did it matter so much to them?"

"First off, it's why _does_ it matter so much to them," Lily corrected her. "These people are still out there, and blood status is still a huge issue in our world." She turned to Harry. "Have you never wondered why we live in a Muggle community?" she asked softly.

"I...well, I always kind of figured it had something to do with Dad," Harry said, biting his lip. Lily swallowed heavily and nodded.

"The Wizarding world isn't divided into purebloods vs. Muggle-borns - there are plenty of people of all blood statuses who oppose the Death Eaters. The most determined of them belong to an organization called the Order of the Phoenix, which is headed by Professor Dumbledore." The children nodded in recognition - they'd met the old wizard several times before. "Being a member of the Order is dangerous - plenty of good people have suffered horrible fates trying to make the magical world safe. Two good friends of ours are in St. Mungo's for life, their sanity completely destroyed, and your father-" Lily paused and swallowed again.

"Your father was killed by Voldemort himself," Sirius finished, knowing Lily wouldn't be able to. "He was after all three of you, but your mum stood up to him, blasted half your house to pieces, and somehow got away."

"Nobody knows why he wanted us dead specifically," Lily said in response to her son's questioning gaze, "but there's no denying that he did. Maybe it's because we'd already defied him several times; maybe he just hated us in particular. Dumbledore has several theories, but he hasn't really shared anything with us - it's too dangerous to be very open unless you're absolutely sure you know what you're saying and that there aren't any spies around. A spy in the Order was the reason Voldemort found us in the first place."

"What kind of a name is Voldemort?" Harry asked. "Surely his mum wasn't that cruel?" In spite of the conversation's dismal subject, Sirius couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Voldemort - _Lord_ Voldemort, to be precise - is just a name he fashioned for himself. Probably thinks it makes him sound special, although it's most likely because he couldn't bear to keep a 'filthy Muggle's' name." Sirius withdrew his wand and began writing a series of letters in the air: _Tom Marvolo Riddle._

"Tom Riddle - that's his real name," he said. "But his father, Tom Riddle Sr., was a Muggle, so he changed his name." With a flick of his wand, the letters rearranged themselves to spell something else: _I am Lord Voldemort._

"What a hypocrite!" Hermione said suddenly, glaring at the letters still floating over her head. "I mean, he thinks only purebloods should have magic, but he isn't one himself? That's pathetic."

"Better watch who you say that to, Hermione," Sirius warned, but he smiled all the same. "An attitude like that, and you'll end up in the Order when you're older."

"I'd be glad to," Hermione said with a huff. "Loads of the great witches and wizards I've read about weren't purebloods."

"Draco, are you alright?" Lily asked with concern. He hadn't spoken in some time and was still looking rather pale.

"My parents were Death Eaters," he said. When Sirius blanched, Draco added, "You haven't sugarcoated the rest of the conversation; please don't do it now. I might've only been four when you took me in, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten. And I read the letter from my mother, you know - the one you gave me on my birthday." He raked the back of his hand furiously across his eyes, which were watering slightly. "How could she claim to care about me when she'd done something like that?" he asked, unable to stop his voice from wavering.

"Draco, don't ever doubt that your mother loved you," Lily said sharply. Draco locked eyes with her, surprised at her harsh tone, and she continued, "The fact that you're sitting here in front of me is proof that she loved you - she loved you enough to seek out a better future for you. Narcissa Malfoy and I were never friends - I'm a Muggle-born, so she looked down on me for my blood status, and her family disowned Sirius for believing in blood equality - but the day she gave you up, the only thing on her mind was keeping you safe. She'd finally realized that your ancestral home was a poisonous place for a child and set out to find the only family member who could promise you something better. If she hadn't, you'd still be living there, in the midst of the Death Eaters, probably being groomed as Voldemort's personal heir or something of the sort. There's no guarantee your mother would be alive, either - she put family before Voldemort, which just simply isn't done, and as Voldemort has ways of finding these things out, the chances that her doubts would've gone unnoticed are pretty slim."

"I know it's a lot to take in," Sirius added, "but you've got to know. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the Wizarding world, but you've still got to be on your guard - one of the Aurors in the Order calls it 'constant vigilance'. You three are going to be of some interest to others when people find out who you are - Harry, your parents have defied Voldemort enough that a lot of people, especially kids who have family in the Order, will probably recognize your name. Draco, you no longer bear the Malfoy name, but your looks will be enough to make some people curious. Hermione, don't go shouting out your blood status if you can help it - you're a smart girl, so I suspect you'll figure out on your own whom you can trust with that information, but still, be discreet. Don't get me wrong, you're all going to have a blast at Hogwarts - we just need to make sure you know what you're getting into so that you can be careful."

"We understand, Padfoot," Harry said.

"I know you do," Lily replied. Rising from the couch, she pulled all three children into a hug. "We wouldn't have told you this if we didn't think you were strong enough to handle it," she said softly. "Just remember that we love you very much - if there's anything Voldemort doesn't understand, it's love."

"Are you all...okay with this?" Sirius asked the Grangers. "Neither of you have said a word since we started."

"Dumbledore told us the basics when he first told us about Hermione being a witch," her mother said. "Given what we already knew, the details are disturbing but not entirely unexpected. Obviously it worries me, but I know Hermione can handle herself." Hermione smiled gratefully at her mother's answer - she'd been worrying during the entire conversation that her parents would change their minds about letting her go to Hogwarts.

"Nothing will get into Hogwarts on Dumbledore's watch," Lily promised. "He's too vigilant, too careful. If you want kids to be safe, you want them where Dumbledore is."

"I quite agree," Hermione's father said. "I've only met the man a handful of times, but there's something about him that just screams trust. It's shocking, yes, but if Hermione can handle it, so can I."

"Thank you, Daddy," Hermione whispered, her eyes full of tears. "That really means a lot to me."

"Why don't you three go play while we fix up some dinner?" Lily suggested. "I'm sure you've got lots to talk about."

"Actually, can I talk to Draco for a second?" Sirius asked. "Harry and Hermione, you go on ahead - we won't be long." Harry and Hermione looked puzzled but nodded, and they retreated to Harry's room while the other two went to Draco's.

"What's up, Padfoot?" Draco asked as he flopped on his bed.

"I just wanted to talk to you about the Sorting," Sirius said.

"Are you worried I'll be in Slytherin?" Draco asked. They'd learned a lot about the four houses from _Hogwarts: A History_ - Slytherin House had produced a multitude of renowned witches and wizards, including Merlin himself, but it also had a dark reputation, mostly due to the emphasis on blood purity that led back to its founder, and he knew that Voldemort and most of his followers were former Slytherins.

"No, not worried," Sirius said, "but you do come from two families with an overwhelming history with the house. I was the only Black for centuries to not be Sorted into Slytherin, and I was disowned for it. The Malfoys and the Blacks took their heritage very seriously, you see."

"I know," Draco said. "My mother wrote about it in her letter."

"The Sorting Hat takes into account your choice, you know," Sirius told him. "If you don't want to be in Slytherin, you won't. Wherever you end up, though, you'll have to be on your guard - there are bound to be children of Death Eaters at Hogwarts, and it would be wise for you to keep an eye on them. Just something for you to think about - you'll have to be brave either way, and I know you will. I just wanted to let you know what you're getting into here." Draco nodded.

"I understand," he said, "and I promise I'll be careful. Nobody I love is going to get hurt on my watch."

"That's my boy," Sirius said affectionately, reaching over to ruffle Draco's hair. "And of course you can tell Harry and Hermione about this - I'd be shocked if you didn't, the way you three share things. They're there for you no matter what."

"I know," Draco replied, smiling slightly in spite of the situation. "They really are the best. Thanks, Padfoot."


	7. London to Hogsmeade

**A/N: Thanks to Elased, Gilbertdieawesomekatzetammer, J. D. Von Wolfe, JuniperRose2, Liger48, Maraudersgal1989, NomNomNomJenna, RoPete, XtremeDreamer, jxski07, meadow-music, & Extremefire321 for the follows/favorites, & thanks to T****he Eclectic Bookworm & ****dianaanne for the reviews!**

**Here's chapter 7 - JKR owns all as always. Chapter 8 is a continuation of this one (would've been REALLY long if I'd kept it as one chapter) & will be up very shortly. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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The conversation with their parents left the children with a lot to think about, but nothing could dampen their spirits about going to Hogwarts. They tore down the countdown to Harry's birthday and replaced it with one to September the first, their excitement only mounting ever higher as they crossed off the days.

As Sirius expected, Draco told Harry and Hermione about their conversation regarding the Sorting. They listened intently and nodded thoughtfully when he finished, and Draco was relieved when they didn't balk at the possibility.

"As long as you're still friends with us, we don't care where you end up," Harry said. "I mean, obviously it'd be great if we were all together, but if we can't, we'll find a way around it."

Sirius provided them with their 'way around it' the day before their departure. Draco and Hermione were keeping Harry company while he finished packing his trunk – Hermione's had been packed for days, and Draco had finally locked his earlier that morning.

"Knock, knock," Sirius called, even though Harry's door was wide open. "Can I come in?"

"Sure." Harry's voice was slightly muffled due to the fact that he was halfway under his bed, searching for a book he thought he'd left there. With a triumphant 'aha!' he wriggled out, the book safely in his grasp.

"I can see you've been cleaning under your bed really well," Sirius said sarcastically as he reached over to brush some dust out of Harry's hair. Harry turned pink and looked sheepish, Draco and Hermione sniggering behind him.

"Sorry, Padfoot," he said. "I'll clean it out once I'm done packing."

"Sure you will." Sirius grinned. "I've got something for you three." He reached into his pocket and produced three identical blank pieces of parchment, each about the size of a postcard.

"What are these?" Hermione asked as she received hers.

"Charmed parchment," Sirius said. "James – Harry's dad – and I had two-way mirrors when we were at school; used to use them to talk to each other when we were in separate detentions." The children laughed – they'd heard many stories about the Marauders' troublemaking tendencies.

"Anyway, these work a little like that, except I think they're actually a tad better since you could use them in class. Not that I'm condoning you not paying attention," he added, attempting to look stern and failing miserably, "but I figured they'd be useful if you wanted to talk to each other but couldn't do it face-to-face."

"Like if we were in the library, or separate rooms," Draco suggested.

"Exactly."

"How are they charmed?" Hermione wanted to know.

"You can personalize them to recognize a single magical signature," Sirius said. "Very useful for when you don't want other people reading your messages. All you need to do is touch the tip of your wand to your piece of parchment and state your full name, which is why you'll be able to use them as soon as you get to school – no fancy incantations required. When you get a message, your parchment will heat up, and the message will reveal itself once you touch it."

"Very cool," Harry said. "Have you and Mum got one?"

"We do," Sirius replied, "although we'd like to see some real letters occasionally too, you know. You really should only contact us via our parchment if it's an emergency or something else that can't wait for normal owl post."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, nodding thoughtfully. "Thank you, Mr. Padfoot, these are really great."

"Hermione, how many times do I have to tell you the 'Mr.' part isn't necessary?" Sirius said with a chuckle.

"At least once more, it seems." She gave an embarrassed-looking smile.

"Of course. Hurry up and finish, you lot – the Hogwarts Express waits for no one!"

The next morning, the children woke even earlier than they had on Harry's birthday. Unfortunately, their trunks were already packed and ready to go, so after breakfast, they found themselves with quite a bit of time to kill and nothing with which to kill it. They tried playing a spot of Quidditch, but they were so distracted that even flying lasted only about fifteen minutes before they couldn't handle it any longer, and they soon fell to pacing – inside, outside, wherever their anxious feet happened to take them. The adults all breathed a sigh of relief when they found it was time to load up the car.

Though it was midmorning, King's Cross Station had always been a major hub for Muggle Britain and was therefore rather crowded. The children kept close to their parents as they maneuvered their luggage carts through the throngs of people, who stared curiously at the owl cages perched on top of the boys' trunks. Finally, they reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten, which Lily and Sirius had already told them was the concealed entrance to Platform 9 ¾. According to Sirius, they were supposed to walk straight through the barrier, but it looked incredibly solid, and they approached it cautiously. Harry, who was in front, was amazed when the front of his trolley seemed to vanish in thin air when it touched the barrier, and Draco and Hermione watched in awe as Harry followed the cart through the wall and disappeared entirely. Emboldened by his success, they followed suit, and the resulting sight left them speechless. Platforms nine and ten were gone, and in its place was a different platform, a scarlet steam engine waiting proudly on the tracks. Hundreds of people milled about, and as the adults came through to join them, the children turned back to the barrier to see the sign overhead: _Hogwarts Express, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Eleven O'clock._

"Pretty cool, huh?" Sirius asked when he noticed the look on the children's faces. They could only nod in reply.

"Get that excited every time you see something magical, and you won't speak for your entire Hogwarts careers," Lily quipped. "Come on – let's go find you a compartment."

Fifteen minutes later, three trunks, two owls, and one Kneazle-cat rested in a compartment halfway down the train, and their owners had returned to the platform to say their goodbyes.

"Promise you'll write?" Harry asked as he, Draco, and Hermione took turns hugging the adults.

"Every day, if you like," Lily replied, smiling fondly at her son. "You'd better write too – we didn't buy you those owls for nothing, you know."

"We'll put them to good use, we promise," Draco said. "I'm sure we'll have loads to tell you just after today."

"It's Hogwarts – you'll have loads to tell us _every_ day," Sirius reminded him. "Now get on that train and go have some fun."

With a chorus of 'goodbyes' and a last round of hugs, the children disengaged themselves from the adults and boarded the train, hanging out of the window to wave as the whistle blew and the Express began to move.

"I can't believe it – we're finally going to Hogwarts!" Hermione squealed once they'd left the station and settled into their seats. She let Crookshanks out of his basket so he could stretch his legs before offering Berenice, Draco's beautiful tawny owl, a treat. Hedwig, Harry's equally lovely snowy owl, was already fast asleep with her head under her wing, so Hermione stored her treat away for later.

Lily and Sirius had told them the journey would take most of the day, so they'd been sure to bring plenty of entertainment. The three friends played several rounds of Exploding Snap, a highly exciting card game that had always been a personal favorite, and they enjoyed a few of their favorite sweets from the trolley after they'd finished the sandwiches Lily had packed. Sometime in the afternoon, a round-faced boy stopped by their compartment, tearfully asking if they'd seen a toad. They regretfully told him they hadn't, but Hermione offered to help him look – the boy, who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom, smiled gratefully and thanked her for the offer. While Hermione was gone, Draco and Harry immersed themselves in a game of wizard chess – Sirius had taught them to play two summers previous, and while neither of them were yet particularly good, they both enjoyed the game. Hermione returned just in time to see Draco's knight blast Harry's rook off the board, which caused her to jump and the boys to laugh. Harry ultimately won the game twenty minutes later when Draco's last pawn lost a fierce battle with his queen, and they packed away the board and changed into their new uniforms.

It was dark out when they reached Hogsmeade Station, so they couldn't see much as they hopped off the train and joined the crowd on the tiny platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" called a booming voice. A lantern bobbed over the sea of heads, and Harry could just make out the outline of a huge man at the far end of the platform.

"That must be Hagrid," he said, remembering what his mum had told him about the gamekeeper. "Shall we?" Draco and Hermione nodded, and the three made their way towards the man. Up close, he seemed even bigger – he was easily twice as tall as a normal man and three times as wide, and his impressive quantity of black hair and beard made Hermione's curls look tame. In spite of his intimidating appearance, however, his eyes, which they could see clearly in the light of his lantern, were kind, and the smile he gave the first-years was genuine.

"Everyone here? Righ' then, this way!" The first-years followed Hagrid down a rocky path through what seemed to be a grove of trees. Gasps of awe and shock came from all directions as they cleared the last of the trees – they were standing on the edge of a great black lake, and on the other side of that lake was…_Hogwarts._


	8. Bravery Isn't Just for Gryffindors

**A/N: Thanks to Voscaia & Awii Eloise for the follows/favorites!**

**As promised, here's chapter 8 - JKR owns all things Potter. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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The castle was even better than they'd imagined. Dozens of towers and turrets rose above the building's majestic stone façade, the lit windows reflecting off the lake's surface to mirror the stars twinkling overhead. Harry, Hermione, and Draco never once took their eyes off the splendid sight in front of them, not even as they took a seat in one of the many small boats awaiting them at the lake's edge. The castle loomed ever closer as the boats journeyed across the lake, and Hermione couldn't resist another squeal.

The end of their journey found them in a small underground harbor, and Hagrid led the group out onto the lawn and up to the front doors, where he passed them off to a stern-looking older witch he addressed as 'Professor McGonagall'. They crossed the flagged stones of the entrance hall, gaping at the massive marble staircase in front of them, before filing into a side chamber.

"Good evening, and welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall told them. "In a few moments, we will join the rest of the school in the Great Hall, where you will then be Sorted into your houses. During your time here, your house will be like your family – you will eat at your house table, sleep in your house dormitory and spend time in your house common room, and you will earn or lose points for your house based on your actions. Each house has its own rich history and has produced many notable witches and wizards – I hope you will all do your houses proud. Take a moment to freshen yourselves up, and I'll be back to collect you when we're ready."

As soon as Professor McGonagall left the room, a buzz of nervous whispering broke out. Harry, Draco, and Hermione knew what the Sorting ceremony entailed – they had _Hogwarts: A History_ to thank for that – but it seemed that the majority of their new classmates did not. Several were wondering aloud if they'd have to cast some sort of spell, some thought they'd be Sorted by a questionnaire or other written test, and still others thought it might be rather like picking teams for a sport. A few didn't speak at all but just stood there looking terrified. Harry turned to the others and held out his hand – the three of them locked pinkies, a gesture they'd done since they were small, and Harry whispered, "Remember, no matter what happens, we're in this together." Draco and Hermione nodded fiercely, and they let go just as Professor McGonagall returned.

"This way, please." They followed her into the Great Hall, an enormous room in which the rest of the students sat waiting at four long tables. A fifth table, raised on a platform facing the students, held the teachers, and it was up to this table that Professor McGonagall led the first-years. Professor Dumbledore sat in the very middle of the staff table, his blue eyes twinkling merrily as the first-years made a line in front of him, facing the rest of the school. In front of them was a three-legged stool, and perched on that stool was an ancient-looking wizard's hat. Silence fell over the Hall, and the hat began to sing:

_Welcome back to those returning,  
__And hello to first-years too.  
__It's time to start the Sorting,  
__And here's what we will do:  
__Four houses have we here at school  
__Each rich with history,  
__And I am here to tell you just  
__In which you ought to be.  
__If chivalry is found within,  
__If you can prove you're brave,  
__Then I shall call out 'Gryffindor'  
__And send you on your way.  
__If patience is your virtue  
__And loyalty your game,  
__Then off you go to Hufflepuff  
__To work hard in her name.  
__If wit and brains are things that you  
__Prize far beyond the rest,  
__Then Ravenclaw's the perfect place  
__For you to start your quest.  
__And those of cunning cleverness  
__Who shrink not from ambition  
__Will thrive the best in Slytherin  
__Where dreams come to fruition.  
__So let me look inside your head;  
__Please know I won't take long.  
__Four houses lie in wait for you –  
__I'll tell where you belong._

The whole room burst into enthusiastic applause as the hat bowed to each of the tables in turn. Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll and said, "When I call your name, you will come forward and try on the hat. Let us begin – Abbott, Hannah!" A small girl with blonde pigtails stepped up to the stool and placed the hat on her head, where it promptly fell down past her eyes – it didn't necessarily look that way sitting on its own, but evidently, the Sorting Hat was quite large. There was a slight pause, and then the hat spoke once more:

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The third table clapped enthusiastically as Hannah joined them, looking incredibly embarrassed at all the attention.

"Black, Draco!"

Draco squeezed Harry and Hermione's hands, which he'd been holding tightly ever since the hat had finished its song, and stepped forward to sit on the stool.

"Hmmm, interesting," said a voice, and Draco nearly jumped clean off the stool before he realized the hat was talking to him.

"Did everyone else just hear that?" he wondered.

"No," the hat replied with a chuckle. "They will only hear my final decision – which could take a bit, Mr. Malfoy. Oh yes, I know who you are – there are very few things I _don't_ know, you see. But as it seems you prefer otherwise, I'll stick with Mr. Black."

"Thank you," Draco thought weakly.

"Hmmm…I'm really not sure where I'm going to put you," the hat mused. "You're brave, loyal, intelligent, and determined. Most interesting indeed."

"Where can I go that we'll be safest?" Draco asked. He was pretty sure he didn't need to elaborate on what he meant, and when the hat made a thoughtful noise, he knew he was right.

"I'm not entirely sure you're going to like that answer," it said.

"I need to go where I can make sure we're safe," Draco repeated. "If that's where I need to be, that's where I need to be."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes."

"I admire your courage and commitment, Mr. Black. I really do. Not many people would be able to do what you're doing." A slight pause, and the hat shouted out the final word to the whole hall:

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the far right cheered this time, and Draco made his way down off the platform to find a seat with his new housemates. Once there, he turned his attention back to the remaining first-years and gave Harry and Hermione a reassuring nod, which they returned with small smiles of their own. It hurt that they weren't going to be together, but as he'd already talked it over with them, he knew they understood.

The Sorting continued after the Slytherins' applause had died down, with new students continuing to join each of the four house tables. Sometimes, the hat placed a student almost instantly; other times, it deliberated for a bit before deciding where the student fit best. When Hermione's turn came, she rushed to the stool and jammed the hat on her head, but Draco could see she was shaking as she sat down. The hat seemed to have a hard time deciding where Hermione belonged, and nearly five minutes passed before she was declared a Gryffindor.

Just as Sirius had suggested, whispers erupted throughout the hall when Professor McGonagall called Harry's name – it seemed he wasn't kidding when he'd suggested that students might've heard of Harry Potter. Harry was a little uncomfortable when he saw how many people were trying to get a good look at him as the hat slipped over his eyes – thankfully, however, he didn't have to feel their stares for too long, as the hat shouted out "GRYFFINDOR!" not long afterwards. Trembling with relief, he took a seat at the far left table next to Hermione and Neville.

When "Zabini, Blaise!" had joined the Slytherin table, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took the Sorting Hat away. Professor Dumbledore stood up and welcomed them all back, and with a wave of his hand, the house tables were suddenly groaning under the weight of the start-of-term feast.

"This is all so delicious!" Hermione commented as she cut up her chicken.

"I know," Harry agreed. "I can't believe how amazing this food is." Lowering his voice slightly, he asked, "Do you think Draco will be alright?" They both glanced over at the Slytherin table – Draco was chatting idly to the dark-skinned boy on his right, who Harry vaguely recalled was the last student to be Sorted. Seeing his brother talking to someone cheered him up a little – Harry and Hermione didn't want to automatically stamp Slytherin's bad reputation on every student in that house, and the idea that Draco had found someone he might be able to talk to made them feel a little better.

Sometime later, the tables cleared themselves, and Professor Dumbledore stood once more.

"Just a few start-of-term notices before you all trot off to bed," he said jovially. "Our first-years – as well as some of our older students, I might add – should note that the Forbidden Forest is, as its name suggests, off-limits to all pupils unless accompanied by a staff member. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you not to use magic in the corridors between classes, and if anyone needs a refresher, the full list of items banned within the castle may be found on his office door. All students interested in playing Quidditch for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, and finally, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to suffer a highly painful death."

Silence followed this last announcement – what on earth were they supposed to think about that? Harry and Hermione made eye contact with Draco, who shrugged.

"Now that we're all fed, off to bed with you – best to be well rested for your lessons tomorrow morning!" Hundreds of students rose as one and prefects began shouting for the new students to follow.

The trip to Gryffindor Tower was a long one, but the destination was worth it – the common room was full of comfortable-looking armchairs and sofas, and a warm fire crackled merrily in the grate. Several students had already made themselves at home around the fire, while others had retreated to the dormitories, which were accessible via two adjacent staircases at the back of the room.

"I'll be back in a minute," Hermione said. "Grab us a seat, yeah?" Harry nodded, and she raced up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, returning a few minutes later with a quill and her charmed parchment.

"Let's see how this works," she said. She touched her wand to the parchment and stated, "Hermione Jean Granger." The parchment glowed brightly for a moment before resuming its natural hue, and she nodded, seeming satisfied. Reaching for her quill, she scribbled, _We're both here – how are you?_ She frowned when nothing happened.

"Did I miss something?" she asked Harry.

"Well…Padfoot didn't say anything about this, but how does the message know where to go?" he suggested.

"Oh, of course!" Hermione added _To: DLB_ before her message, which promptly vanished. She then quickly sent a second message: _Just write 'To: HJG' and you'll be able to reply. _

Draco's response came not long after:

_I'd figured that out already, but thanks. I'm alright – going to miss the sun, since we're underground, but the common room's nice, and our beds are super comfortable._

_Good, _Harry wrote. _Anybody in your dorm seem cool?_

_Haven't really interacted with them much,_ was the response. _I talked to BZ at dinner, and he seems like a good person. You?_

_Same. Have only really talked to HG and NL. Will have to update once we know more._

_I know you guys are worried, but don't be. I promise I'm ok._

_We know you are – just be careful._

_I will. Time for bed, I'm exhausted. Night._

_Goodnight – we love you._

_Love you both too – see you in the morning._

Satisfied with Draco's answers, they put the parchment away for the night and headed up the stairs, more than ready to enjoy their first night's sleep as Hogwarts students.


	9. The First Week

**A/N: Thank you so much to CapnSureYouAre, SnowFireFlyRain, Wish Me Monsters, elismaya, Xoes, angel shadow 1, unamedhpauthor, icequeen90, MusicLover500, blueflame87, Angle's Little Devil, Oineby, redCEREUS, & ajaye for the follows/favorites, & thanks to The Eclectic Bookworm, HallowRain8587, Elased, Shorty653, sthrnpanther06, KodeV, TheGirlWhoIsInLoveWithJapan, Xoes, & Guest for all the lovely reviews! I appreciate all of them, I really do.**

**Here's chapter 9 - as usual, all things Potter belong to JKR. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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Hermione stretched luxuriously when she awoke the next morning, soft noises from her roommates the only sound in the otherwise quiet dormitory. She reached for her charmed parchment and smiled when it immediately heated and revealed its message:

_Meet me in the common room at 8:15 to head down to breakfast?_

Grabbing a quill, she quickly scrawled a reply in the affirmative before petting Crookshanks on the head and opening her trunk to prepare for the day. Half an hour later, freshly showered and dressed in her new Hogwarts uniform, Hermione slung her book bag over her shoulder and made her way down the stone staircase.

"Morning, Maya!" Harry said brightly as he hugged her.

"Morning, Harry! Shall we?" They linked arms and headed out of the portrait hole, talking excitedly all the way to the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall, who was Head of Gryffindor House, handed out their course schedules during breakfast, and they examined them with interest, noting that their first class would be Herbology with someone called Professor Sprout.

"Looks like we have some of our classes with the other houses," Hermione said as she perused her schedule. "We have Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Potions with Slytherin - oh good, that means we have at least one class with Draco..."

"That is good," Harry agreed as he reached for a muffin. "It already feels weird, the three of us not being together all the time."

"Maybe we can find someplace to meet up during breaks," Hermione suggested. "We're supposed to be in our common rooms at night, but we can spend our frees wherever we want."

"Yeah, definitely. Let's keep an eye out, yeah?"

However, keeping an eye out for a place the trio could meet proved rather difficult when they were constantly on their toes just figuring out how Hogwarts worked. The occupants of the castle's numerous portraits liked to leave their frames to visit friends, and many of the 142 staircases changed on a regular basis - by Friday, they'd encountered one with a trick step, several that led different places depending on the time of day, and even, to their chagrin, one concealed behind a tapestry that actually transported them back up two floors even though they walked downwards, a mistake that took them nearly fifteen minutes to discover and a further ten to correct. The lack of dependable landmarks coupled with the ever-changing floor plan made getting to class on time extremely difficult.

Once they'd figured out the navigation aspect of their new school, there were still the classes themselves, which had them up to their necks in complicated notes in mere minutes. They left each Herbology lesson wiping sweat off their brows and smelling strongly of fertilizer, and their midnight Astronomy lessons soon necessitated fitting a short afternoon nap into their Wednesday schedule just so they could stay awake. The excitement they felt when they discovered that one of their professors was a ghost was quashed almost instantly, as they quickly found out that Professor Binns was easily the most boring entity they'd ever met, and History of Magic soon became one of the most dreaded blocks on their timetable. Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bit of a disappointment, as Professor Quirrell was incredibly skittish and seemed afraid of his own subject, but Charms with Professor Flitwick sounded like it'd be fun. Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class turned out to be incredibly challenging. Hermione was the only one who succeeded in turning her match into a needle by the end of their first lesson, a feat which earned the blushing girl her first five points for Gryffindor.

Amidst the chaos of their first week, Harry and Hermione slowly found themselves getting to know their fellow Gryffindors. In addition to Neville, who chatted amiably with the two friends every morning over breakfast and proved to have a great interest in Herbology, Harry's roommates included Dean Thomas, a friendly black boy with a near-obsessive passion for Muggle football, Seamus Finnigan, an Irish boy with a penchant for mischief, and Ron Weasley, a tall redhead. Ron came from a large family - in addition to third-year twins Fred and George and fifth-year prefect Percy, Ron had two older brothers who'd already left school and a younger sister who would be coming the following year. He loved Quidditch as much as Dean loved football, which often sparked minor disagreements between the two over which was the better sport, and he was an exceptional chess player. As for the girls, Hermione hadn't talked to them much - Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil had been friends long before they came to Hogwarts and were into all sorts of girly things Hermione didn't really care for, and Eloise Midgen seemed nice but was incredibly shy.

All the insanity of the first few days meant that Harry and Hermione hadn't had much of a chance to talk to their Slytherin third outside of a few charmed messages, so they were glad when Friday morning arrived and they headed down to the dungeons after breakfast.

"Hey, strangers!" Draco greeted them as the Gryffindors approached the Potions classroom.

"Hey yourself," Harry replied, reaching over to give his brother a fist bump. "How's life underground?"

"Harry!" Hermione admonished, "It's not like he's down here _all _the time."

"I do occasionally see daylight," Draco acknowledged with a wink. "And it's not all that bad, really - the windows in our common room give us an underwater view of the lake; we've seen some pretty cool creatures go by already."

Just then, the dungeon door burst open, and a sharp voice ordered them inside. The group rushed to obey - the voice sounded like it belonged to someone who had very little patience for time-wasters.

Professor Snape, the Potions master, proved himself to be a no-nonsense person right from the start - he launched almost immediately into a lecture about the subtleties involved in potion-making, hinting heavily that many of them would lack the finesse and attention to detail necessary to succeed in his subject. The class sat quietly during his speech, hanging onto Snape's every word as if dire consequences awaited them if they didn't.

After taking yet another round of complex notes, the class got to work making a potion to cure boils - everyone silently wondered how one would get boils requiring such a potion in the first place, but nobody was brave enough to run this by Snape. Harry, Draco, and Hermione thought Snape's behavior towards them rather odd - he openly criticized Harry's work several times, almost as if he were purposely trying to goad Harry into retaliating, and he studied Draco so intently that the blonde found his eyes watering from trying not to blink. Thankfully, the uncomfortable moment ended abruptly when one of their classmates performed one of the steps out of order and subsequently caused a small explosion, necessitating Snape's retreat to his desk as he administered antidotes to those who'd been hit by the faulty potion while ordering the rest of the class out.

"Let's meet out by the lake after lunch?" Draco suggested. "We'll probably have to find an empty classroom or something eventually, but we might as well take advantage of the nice weather while it's still here." Harry and Hermione readily agreed, and one o'clock found the three friends sprawled out in the grass by the lake's rocky shore, a large tree providing a bit of shade should they desire it.

"So how was everybody's first week?" Hermione asked as she laid back against the tree trunk.

"Not bad," Draco replied. "Charms seems like it'll be fun, but Transfiguration is tough."

"Oh, right - you mentioned that in your message the other day. Want me to talk you through it?" Draco nodded, and the three decided to go over all their subjects for good measure, save History of Magic, which was tedious enough the first time around.

Once they'd exhausted the topic of schoolwork, Harry turned the conversation towards the odd behavior of their Potions professor.

"What do you reckon was up with him?" he asked. "He looked like he wanted to bite my head off merely for being there!"

"He did look rather unhappy to see you," Hermione agreed, "although I can't imagine why. How can you hate someone you just met? And what about the way he looked at you, Dragon?"

"It was pretty creepy – it's almost like he knew who I was," Draco said, biting his lip apprehensively.

"Too many questions, not enough answers," Harry said with a sigh. "Maybe we could ask Mum and Padfoot? They might know something we don't."

"Well, they are waiting for a letter," Draco pointed out.

"Have you written them, then?" Harry asked.

"Yup," Draco nodded, looking slightly smug. "The first night, after the feast. Wanted to get the scoop on my housemates, so I told them all about it and sent Berenice off Monday morning. I got a response on Wednesday, and they told me to make sure you two wrote."

"What'd they say?" Hermione wanted to know. "Although I'd like to hear what you think of them too, of course." Draco looked pensive for a moment, as if he were thinking of how best to begin.

"Blaise seems alright," he said. "Doesn't talk much, but he's got some good stories to tell and seems to want friends rather than allies. The others I don't really care for – Crabbe and Goyle haven't got half a brain cell between the two of them, and Theodore Nott's just a jerk. He's the one I'm most worried about; unlike Crabbe and Goyle, he's actually pretty smart. Padfoot said all three of their fathers are known Death Eaters, with Nott Sr. definitely outranking the other two."

"What about Blaise?" Harry asked.

"Don't think so. His father's dead, and the only thing Padfoot could tell me about his mother is that she's on like her sixth husband or something crazy like that. Blaise told me he was born in Italy, so I don't think his family's been in England long enough to really be wrapped up in all this."

"And the girls?" Hermione inquired.

"Pansy Parkinson – she's the one with the short dark hair – is probably the most obnoxious girl I've ever met."

"Like you've really met all that many girls to begin with," Harry pointed out.

"Fair point," Draco acknowledged, "and we all know 'obnoxious' doesn't describe you by a long shot, Lotte." He reached over and affectionately tugged one of Hermione's curls, causing her to blush and swat his hand away. "But still – watch out for her, coz I've got a feeling she'll do anything to get what she wants. The other girls are Millicent Bulstrode, Daphne Greengrass, and Tracey Davis – Millicent's along the same lines as Pansy; follows her around like a lapdog and is just as mean. Can't really say much about Daphne one way or the other – Padfoot said her parents are neutral in the war, and I think that reflects in her personality – and Tracey actually seems rather nice." He shrugged and said, "Enough about the Slytherins; tell me about your housemates." Harry and Hermione obliged, telling Draco all about their roommates, Gryffindor Tower, and Harry's theory that they traversed at least half of Hogwarts' staircases daily just getting up to their dormitory.

The three friends spent the rest of the afternoon happily recounting everything they'd seen and done so far and speculating about everything still to come. They couldn't even begin to fathom specifics, but given the vast quantity of incredible things they'd already encountered, they all agreed that Hogwarts was indeed a very exciting place to be.


	10. Flying Class

**A/N: Thank you to Maybethatsthewayiam, Phnxgirl, PurpleBullet, SBo, leilanecris, littlelizruth, skifast, swannnie, theyellowcased, vivekgk3, vmarslovahhh18, KindredSoul5508, Obsidian-Dragon-Phoenix, Philosophize, Silver Wolf Luna, PerfectlyStrange, Temporal Tempest, & PurplePythonShoes for the follows/faves, & to TheGirlWhoIsInLoveWithJapan, Kermit 304, & The Eclectic Bookworm for the reviews! You're making my day here guys, seriously (not to mention you all have some very creative usernames...)**

**Here's chapter 10 - you know the drill, all things Potter belong to JKR. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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Harry and Hermione took Draco's suggestion and wrote home that very night, telling Lily, Sirius, and Hermione's parents all about their first week at Hogwarts. They spent the rest of the weekend polishing off their homework and lazing around on the lawn, and they both received lengthy responses to their letters at breakfast on Monday morning. Lily and Sirius congratulated them on being in Gryffindor and urged them to keep their eyes open, and the Grangers just sounded thrilled to have heard from them. Chuckling to themselves about their parents' predictable responses, Harry and Hermione each grabbed one last piece of toast before gathering their things and heading off to Charms.

That evening, they returned to the common room to find a small crowd gathered around the notice board.

"What's up?" Harry asked Ron, who was closest.

"We're starting flying lessons on Thursday!" Ron said, sounding excited. "Although it stinks we have to learn with the Slytherins…"

Harry bit his lip but didn't say anything. He really wanted to be friends with Ron – the redhead was funny and good company – but this wasn't the first anti-Slytherin comment he'd made, not by a long shot, and Harry was having a hard time not snapping at him for it. He hadn't yet decided if he could trust Ron to know of his connection to Draco, and having to keep his mouth shut was difficult.

"Flying lessons, hmm?" Hermione asked, leaning over Harry's shoulder to read the notice. "Reckon I'll be able to control the Quaffle this time?"

"We probably won't be working with Quaffles the first class," Harry said with a laugh, recalling several past mishaps involving Hermione and the bright red ball, "but I bet Madam Hooch'll be able to sort you out." He winked, and she retaliated with a shove to his shoulder.

"Oh, shut it, you." She tossed her hair out of her face and readjusted her bag. "I'm going to head upstairs, but I'll see you later."

Thursday was another beautiful day, and that afternoon, the first-year Gryffindors left Transfiguration and made their way across the grounds to a flat expanse of lawn near the Forbidden Forest. The Slytherins, having come from the greenhouses, were already there, as was their instructor, Madam Hooch. She was a tall, thin woman with short gray hair and sharp, hawk-like eyes.

"Everyone step on up to a broom," she ordered. "Quickly, now!" They hastened to do as they were told. Harry grimaced when he took in the state of his broom – it looked old and heavy, and the tail was a mess of angled twigs. He doubted it flew very well.

"Stick your right hand over the broom, and say, 'Up!'" Madam Hooch called.

"Up!" The command rippled across the lawn as the assembled students attempted to control their brooms. Harry and Draco's brooms jumped into their hands almost instantly, Hermione's following not long after, but most of the brooms remained on the ground. They waited patiently while Madam Hooch gave advice on how to properly command a broom, and she then spent several minutes demonstrating proper mounting and gripping techniques.

"Alright, now," she said once they were all sitting on their brooms, "on my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down. Understood?" A wave of affirmative replies seemed to satisfy her, and she raised the whistle to her lips. She hadn't even blown it, however, when Neville, who'd been nervous about the lesson all week, kicked early and shot off like a rocket. They watched in horror as he rapidly rose far faster than he'd probably intended, and he was very high up indeed when he looked down, panicked, and fell sideways off the broomstick, landing in the grass with a sickening _crack_.

"Out of my way!" Madam Hooch demanded, running towards the fallen boy.

"Ow!" Neville cried, clutching his arm as she helped him sit up.

"Broken wrist, I think," Harry heard her mutter, and she gently helped the injured boy to stand. Turning to the assembled students, she said, "Everyone is to stay firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. Anyone who sees fit to disobey will find themselves heading straight home first thing in the morning, is that quite clear?" She wrapped an arm around Neville's shoulders and guided him back towards the castle.

"Have you ever seen anything so pathetic? And I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."

Harry whirled around to focus his attention on the speaker. Theodore Nott was a tall, weedy-looking boy with dark hair and thin, expensive-looking glasses. His upper lip curled in disgust as he glanced back towards Neville and Madam Hooch, who had reached the front doors and were well out of earshot.

"That's my friend you're insulting, Nott," Harry said, dislike lacing his tone.

"Do I look like I care, Potter?" Nott asked, sneering at him. "Longbottom's a pathetic excuse for a person, never mind a wizard – I'm surprised he's even here at all."

"If anyone here's pathetic, it's you," Hermione chimed in, her eyes narrowed. "Picking on someone when they're not even here – Neville's worth ten of you any day." Nott glared at her and stepped forward menacingly, but Hermione held her ground.

"Shut your mouth, Granger – nobody cares what you have to say. In fact, why don't you just go home? Hogwarts is no place for a Mudblood."

Hermione glanced over at Draco, wordlessly seeking an explanation for the unknown term – perhaps it was some sort of Slytherin code? – but his shrug told her he was just as confused as she was. The silent communication went unnoticed, however, in the midst of someone else's outraged cry.

"Take that back, you disgusting pig!"

Ron Weasley had shoved his way through the group to face Nott, his wand raised. Several others had also drawn their wands, their looks of disgust matching Ron's.

"What, are you trying to tell me she isn't?" Nott asked, raising his eyebrows and looking faintly amused. "Please – I've read Wizarding genealogies, you know. And yours might be one of the last pureblooded families remaining on the Ministry's list, Weasley, but honestly, I think you should be scratched – blood traitors hardly belong in such a category." Ron's face turned a shade of bright pink that clashed horribly with his ginger hair.

"And _you_," Nott continued, ignoring Ron's heavy breathing to turn to Draco, "I know Slytherins are good at keeping secrets, but you seem to top them all, Black – or should I say, Malfoy?" Harry and Hermione's eyes widened behind Nott's back, but Draco hardly moved at all – it seemed he had learned a thing or two in his short time in the Snakes' abode.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nott," he said evenly. "My surname is Black, thank you very much."

"Ah, ah, ah," Nott said condescendingly. "Like I said, I've read Wizarding genealogies…and goodness, did I learn some interesting things. Did you know that the Malfoys are one of the most heavily documented pureblood families in Britain?" he asked, now addressing the group as a whole. "Did you know that the current master of the manor had a son called Draco, a son _our age_ who disappeared without a trace when he was four years old? Isn't it quite a coincidence, then, that the year _our class_ comes to Hogwarts, we find ourselves in the company of a student with the _exact same name_ and a surname that _just so happens_ to be the late Narcissa Malfoy's maiden name?" He smirked broadly and turned back to Draco. "Care to explain that one, _Black?"_ he asked, practically spitting the last word.

"Sure," Draco said with a shrug, still looking remarkably at-ease. Only Harry and Hermione, having known him for as long as they had, could detect slight signs of distress. "I think you've found yourself a coincidence – a rather remarkable coincidence, I'll give you that – and pounced on it in the hopes of getting yourself some attention."

"Madam Hooch's flying class, you're dismissed for the afternoon!" someone called, and they looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing on the front steps, watching them closely. Deciding to finish the conversation, Draco turned back to his housemate – when Nott could only glare at him, it was Draco's turn to smirk. "If you don't mind, _Nott,_ I think I'll be on my way." He gestured to the group at large. "Shall we?"

They made their way back to the castle, and when they got to the entrance hall, the Slytherins made to head down to their dungeon common room.

"Oi! Black!"

Draco turned to face Ron Weasley, who was standing near Harry and Hermione and looking thoroughly annoyed.

"Yes?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"What are you playing at?"

"Excuse me?"

"What are you playing at?" Ron repeated.

"Ron, what are you on about?" Harry interrupted.

"He's a Slytherin, Harry! He probably knew what Nott was doing and was just playing dumb while secretly laughing at us," Ron said angrily. Three angry voices greeted him at once.

"Are you an idiot, Weasley?"

_"Ron!"_

"For God's sake, will you stop insulting my brother?"

This last voice, of course, belonged to Harry – he'd put up with Ron's negativity towards the Slytherins in general to this point, but now the redhead had made it personal, and he decided that waiting to establish trust wasn't going to cut it anymore. He wasn't going to put up with comments like that.

"Your…what?" Ron asked.

"My _brother,_" Harry hissed, his green eyes narrowed. "Draco's my brother, and I'd appreciate it if you'd stop spouting garbage before checking your facts." Ron looked at each of the three angry faces in front of him and had the decency to look ashamed.

"I…sorry," he muttered. "I didn't know."

"Obviously," Draco said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Draco, be quiet," Hermione warned, shooting him a look. The last thing she wanted was another standoff.

"Sorry, Lotte." Hermione huffed quietly and reached over to squeeze his hand. "If we're done here, I'm going to head off – still have to write that Charms essay." Harry nodded in agreement and met Draco's gaze, only looking away when he had reassurance that his brother was indeed ok. Draco then hastened down the steps to the dungeons while the three Gryffindors headed towards the marble staircase.

When they reached Gryffindor Tower, Hermione and Harry decided that this was a situation calling for the charmed parchment. Dipping his quill into his ink, Harry scribbled a message:

_To: SOB & LCEP  
What's a Mudblood?_

The angry reply, in Lily's handwriting, made Harry nearly drop the parchment:

_Harry James Potter, if I ever hear you even so much as _think_ that word, I'll personally see to it that you never speak again._

Padfoot put in his own two Knuts a few moments later – his reply was quite a bit longer and took two rounds to come through completely:

_It's a disgusting word, Harry, a slur to refer to those who are Muggle-born – 'common' blood, 'dirty' blood. Death Eaters and pureblood elitists like to use it to make them feel better about themselves and to reinforce their beliefs that Muggle-borns are 'below' them. Definitely not a word that should be used in polite conversation, and definitely not one I want any of you using. Your mum's had some not-so-pleasant experiences with it herself. Where did you hear it?_

_Theodore Nott,_ Harry replied. _He called Hermione that word during flying class today._

_Hermione told the Slytherins about her parentage?_

_No, of course not – he seemed to think he'd figured it out from some genealogy book._

_Typical. Give them a book and they think they know it all._

_Hey! Don't go insulting the books! _Hermione added. She'd been reading the conversation over Harry's shoulder and couldn't resist jumping in.

_Ha, hi Hermione. Nothing wrong with books, just how people read them. You lot be careful, you hear?_

_We will._

_Alrighty. Go have some of that roast chicken for me, will you? I miss it._

With a laugh, they bid Padfoot goodbye and quickly relayed what they'd learned to Draco before heading downstairs for dinner.


	11. Rumors and a Hidden Room

**A/N: Thank you to HopeInHell, Lady of Luck, Lawstudent092, Makailajohnson, XanfiretheShinigami, sapphyredragon-rn, tfdpc, Cibbler, Kerridwen1531, RRW, ShineBrightGranger, ceciliajkimball, kisses470, skeeter88, tinalr, vaquier2, Kari Minamoto, Lenchen92, AngelKay95, MEileen, & voldelord for the follows/favorites, & thanks to The Eclectic Bookworm, Kermit 304, J. D. von Wolfe, RRW, KodeV, & Jazziet for the reviews! You guys are awesome...**

**Here's chapter 11 - JKR owns the Potterverse, not me. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

Word traveled quickly around Hogwarts, so by Monday morning, the entire school had heard the rumor that first-year Slytherin Draco Black was actually the long-lost Malfoy heir. Most of the students in the lower years didn't understand the rumor and subsequently dismissed it, but the older students, who'd been almost Hogwarts age by the time Draco had vanished, seemed to have heard a version of the tale before and took a keen interest in the blonde, scrutinizing him in the corridors or the Great Hall as if their stares could somehow shed light on Nott's claim. For his part, Draco neither confirmed nor denied the story, keeping his head held high as he passed through the corridors and returning curious glances with one of stoic indifference. Harry and Hermione suspected that the ease with which Draco ignored the situation probably came from his four years spent at Malfoy Manor – betraying emotion in such an environment was liable to get you killed, and Draco had no doubt had that fact pressed upon him since birth. Still, they worried about their friend, and it wasn't until they had direct assurance from Draco himself that they finally relaxed.

One good thing came of all this – Draco, having decided that attempting to do his homework in the library with so many people staring at him was irritating, took to haunting an empty classroom on the fourth floor, and after a week of no one telling him that he had to get out, he came to the conclusion that the classroom was not, at least for the present term, in use. Thus, the problem of finding a suitable meeting place was solved, and the three friends spent long hours in the room doing homework and just catching up.

"Did you hear about that Gringotts break-in?" Harry asked Draco one afternoon as they took a break from their homework.

"No, I didn't," Draco replied, looking up from his Charms essay with an interested expression. "When was this?"

"Over the summer, but the _Prophet's_ only just reported it," Hermione said, sliding a newspaper clipping across the table. Draco skimmed the article quickly, key phrases such as _nothing was taken_ and _high-security vault_ catching his attention.

"If nothing was stolen, why'd they report it?" he wondered aloud.

"Remember what Padfoot said? It's basically impossible to break into Gringotts and not get caught," Harry reminded him.

"But if somebody _did_ manage to do it – and the person is obviously still out there, since the article says they didn't catch the would-be thief – don't you think they _wouldn't_ want to point that out?" Hermione asked, cocking her head to one side and tapping her index finger to her lips as she studied the article. "I mean, you're right, Harry – Gringotts has always prided itself on its impeccable security. Why would they _want_ to make it known that it had somehow been breached, even if the thief didn't get his hands on…whatever he was after?"

"I really don't know," Harry admitted, "none of it makes any sense. For instance, what was the person trying to steal? It says here the vault had been emptied not long before the break-in, so where are the vault's contents now, and _what_ were they?"

"It must've been something really powerful, to even think of trying something like that," Hermione said, "maybe even containing Dark magic."

"Like Harry said, it makes no sense," Draco said, "so why don't we talk about something that does instead?"

"Like what?"

"Like…oh, I dunno. Anything, really. Puddlemere beat the Cannons the other day, but you already knew that."

"And considering how bad the Cannons are, I'd be ashamed if we'd lost," Harry pointed out.

"True." Draco paused for a moment, then said, "I'm kind of hungry. I wish we had some way of getting snacks."

There was a crack like a whip, and a squeaky, high-pitched voice asked, "Someone is wanting a snack?" Hermione shrieked, Harry nearly fell off his chair, and Draco's eyes widened in astonishment.

_"Dobby?"_

"Master Draco?" the creature asked, its large eyes growing even rounder as it took in the sight of the pale boy. "It is really being you then? Dobby is not expecting to see you again, sir!"

"What…" Hermione murmured, just as Harry asked, "Draco, what on earth is going on?"

"Erm…this is Dobby. He's my, er, house-elf."

"House-elf?" Hermione asked, peering curiously at the creature before her. It – no, _he; _Draco had called him 'he' – was just over three feet tall and had floppy, bat-like ears and large round eyes, and he wore a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

"And who is you being?" the house-elf asked her.

"My…my name is Hermione Granger," she said cautiously.

"You is being a friend of Master Draco's?"

"Um…yes. Yes, Draco is my friend."

"Dobby is very pleased to make your acquaintance," the elf said, giving her a slight bow. He repeated his inquiry of Harry and bowed to him as well.

"Er…sorry, Draco, but I'm still royally confused," Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

"House-elves work for Wizarding families, kind of like a…servant, if you will," Draco replied, sounding a little reluctant to reveal this information. "Cooking, cleaning, stuff like that. Dobby was my personal elf when I was little."

"How did you end up here, Dobby?" Hermione asked.

"Mistress Cissy tells Dobby to go with Master Draco when she sends him away, she does," Dobby said, nodding and causing his huge ears to sway, "so Dobby goes to Master Draco's new house with him. But Master Draco's guardians is having no need for a house-elf – 'Master Draco can learn to clean up for himself,' they is saying – so they is sending Dobby here, to work at Hogwarts. And Dobby is happy here, miss; Dobby has lots of friends and plenty of good work."

"Do you get paid, then?"

"No, miss, house-elves is not getting paid. Please do not ask this of the other elves, they is being highly offended if you is offering payment."

"It's not in their ways," Draco supplied. "I know it sounds weird, but house-elves don't want payment for their work. Their satisfaction comes from the satisfaction of their masters – how that makes any sense, I don't know, but that's how it goes, I guess."

"Hmm…" Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, I don't really like the idea of anyone not getting paid for their work – it makes you sound like a slave, Dobby – but if you're really happy…" she trailed off as if unsure how to continue. _"Are_ you happy, Dobby?"

"Oh, yes, miss," Dobby replied, nodding vigorously once more. "Dobby is most content."

"I…well, alright, then," she conceded. She still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the idea, but she'd long come to terms with the fact that, as a Muggle-born, there were some things in the Wizarding world she just couldn't understand. "I'm very pleased to meet you too, Dobby." Dobby beamed at her.

"Now…unless I is mistaken, I is hearing somebody asking for a snack?" Dobby then revealed the silver tray he'd brought with him, laden with a scrumptious-looking tea spread.

"That," Harry said appreciatively, "is awesome."

"Agreed." Draco grinned. "Thanks, Dobby!" The boys dug in eagerly. Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics but conceded to select a scone for herself, commenting favorably as she enjoyed the treat.

"Say, Dobby," Harry said suddenly. "How well do you know this castle?"

"Very well, Master Harry," Dobby replied. "Professor Dumbledore is having the elves do things all over the school, so Dobby knows it well, sir. What is you needing?"

"Well…we've been hanging out here for a week or so now – we're in different houses, see, so we can't just go to our common room – but we were wondering if there might be someplace better."

"You is wanting a place to hang out?" Dobby asked.

"Yes."

"For how many people?"

"Well…us three," Harry said, gesturing around the table, "and maybe some of our friends, if we like."

"Hmm…" Dobby tapped a long finger against the side of his equally long nose, clearly thinking hard. "There is not many places like this in Hogwarts, not that Dobby knows of. Dobby might know of a place, but he will have to see."

"Thank you, Dobby," Hermione said warmly, smiling brightly at him. "That would be most helpful."

They didn't have long to wait – Dobby visited them in their classroom just over a week later, looking very pleased with himself.

"I is bringing you an answer, masters and miss!" he said squeakily. "The Come and Go Room!"

"The what?" Harry asked.

"The Come and Go Room," Dobby repeated. "Some is calling it the 'Room of Requirement'. Is you wanting me to take you there?"

"That won't be necessary, Dobby," Hermione said. "We don't want to keep you from your duties. Can you maybe just tell us how to get there?"

"Oh, but it is much easier to be showing you, miss," Dobby insisted. "Dobby will not be missed." After a few more minutes of hesitation on Hermione's part and reassurance that it was indeed ok on Draco's, the children packed up their bags and followed Dobby from the room. He led them on a lengthy journey through the castle to the seventh floor – Harry noticed that they'd taken a rather roundabout route, and when he voiced this thought aloud, Dobby apologized profusely, saying that since house-elf magic was different and therefore allowed him to Apparate in the castle, while he knew where everything was, he didn't necessarily know all the best ways to get there. Hermione hastily reassured the little elf that it was no matter, and they continued on until they reached a blank stretch of wall opposite a tapestry of a wizard attempting to teach trolls to dance.

"The room is being there," Dobby said, pointing to the blank stone. "You is needing to walk by this wall three times, thinking of exactly what you need, and the door is appearing."

"Shall we try it?" Harry asked the others.

"Can't hurt," Draco said. They paced back and forth across the corridor, thinking hard. On the third pass, Hermione gasped as a simple wooden door materialized from nowhere. She reached out and pulled the handle, and they found themselves in what could easily be a small common room – there were sofas and chairs for relaxing, a table for homework, and a warm fire in the hearth.

"How does this room work, Dobby?" Harry asked in awe.

"Dobby is sorry, Master Harry, but he is not knowing exactly," Dobby replied, shaking his head slightly to emphasize the point, "but it can be whatever you is needing. Dobby knows Mr. Filch is finding broom cupboards with handy cleaning supplies here, for instance."

"Dobby, this is really great," Draco said as he flopped onto one of the sofas. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Master Draco. Now, Dobby is needing to return to the kitchens. You need anything, Dobby will be there!" With another loud _crack_, the house-elf vanished.

"Hogwarts really is full of surprises, isn't it?" Hermione said fondly, brushing her fingers over the books stacked on the small bookcase near the door.

Over the next few weeks, the three friends explored the ins and outs of their new meeting place. They discovered that the room was able to provide exits to several different places throughout the school – for instance, Hermione needed a book from the library one evening, and the room opened up in the corridor just down the hall from her destination. The only entrance remained on the seventh floor – as Gryffindor Tower was also on the seventh floor, Harry and Hermione didn't care much, but Draco got quite a lot of extra exercise traipsing up and down the stairs. He didn't mind, though, as the room really was the perfect place for the three of them to hang out. They were careful not to go there every night, as doing so would've raised suspicion if their more astute housemates noticed their frequent absences, but they went as often as they could, and the hours they spent in the room provided them with plenty of fun. Hogwarts really was an extraordinary place.


	12. Halloween

**A/N: Thanks go to Kasyntra, freedomcows007, EmilyWoods, Hogwarts Chocolate, Hollow Life, Icelynne, MJandSports, cosmoGirl666, kailin2318, kb86, mrsdemon, & Fat ppl are harder to kidnap for the follows/faves, & to The Eclectic Bookworm & J.D. Von Wolfe (happy belated birthday!) for the reviews!**

**In honor of the glorious weather & my non-existent to-do list, allow me to present chapter 12. JKR owns all things Potter, _comme d'habitude. _Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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Halloween morning dawned gloomy and gray, but the mood in the castle was the exact opposite. Everyone chattered excitedly as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, the first-years speculating about how Hogwarts might decorate for the holiday while older students wondered how this year's decorations would compare to those from years past. Though Lily and Sirius had allowed the boys to partake in the fun Muggle traditions with Hermione, Halloween had always been a bit of a downer for Harry, as that was the night his father had been killed ten years previously, so he was eager for a more positive experience to associate with the occasion.

"Ooooh, Harry, look!" Hermione cried as they entered the hall.

Harry had no reply but was similarly awestruck. Pumpkins as large as cars, lovingly tended to and carved by Hagrid, stood in the four corners of the room and featured all sorts of impressive scenes. The candles and torches in the hall burned a bright orange instead of their normal hue, adding a sense of spookiness to the place, and clouds of thousands of live bats hovered overhead, squeaking eerily.

"I heard Dumbledore booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the feast tonight," a passing Ravenclaw told his friend.

"Really?" the other boy replied, sounding intrigued. "I'd heard it was the Hogwarts ghosts...but then, they did something last year, didn't they?"

"Two or three years ago now. Maybe we'll see both, that'd be cool."

Conversations in this vein went on throughout the breakfast hour, and the first-year Gryffindors were still talking animatedly as they made their way upstairs to Charms. Harry grinned as he removed his things for class and noticed he had a message from Draco:

_What'd you think of those pumpkins? So cool - do you reckon we could convince Padfoot to let us grow something that big?_

_Ha, Mum would veto that in an instant, _Harry scribbled. _But yeah, they're awesome! Can't wait to see what happens tonight..._

"Order, please!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. Harry quickly put his charmed parchment away and retrieved his ink bottle and quill. Once the class had settled, the tiny Charms master said, "In honor of the occasion, I thought we'd do something special today - we've made enough progress that I think today would be a perfect day to start on your levitation charms."

An excited murmuring swept through the room at the professor's announcement - they'd been eager to make things fly since he'd made Neville's toad zoom around the room some three weeks prior.

"Now, remember, it is _very _important to always use the correct incantation and wand movement - never forget the story of Wizard Baruffio, children! A buffalo might be the least of your worries if your utterances are incorrect. Now, the wand motion for the levitation charm is that lovely little 'swish and flick' we've been practicing - let's see it, please!" The class raised their wands and demonstrated the motion. "Good, very good!" Professor Flitwick beamed. "'Swish and flick,' that's the ticket. The incantation you'll need for this spell is _Wingardium Leviosa."_

_"Wingardium Leviosa," _the class repeated.

"Good!" Professor Flitwick hopped down off his stack of books and reached for a box of feathers.

"If you could please give one to each student, Miss Brown," he requested. Lavender took the box and made her way down the rows, carefully placing a single feather on each of her classmates' desks. The task finished, she returned the box to Professor Flitwick and resumed her own seat.

"We'll start with feathers, then - nice and light, so they shouldn't be too hard for you to control. Help each other out, and I'll be walking around if you need me. Give it a whirl, then!"

Cries of _"Wingardium Leviosa!" _filled the classroom. The charm seemed to be a little trickier than it looked, however, as very few feathers were reacting at all to the students' attempts.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Ron said forcefully, jabbing his wand towards the feather.

"Oooh, be careful!" Hermione cautioned, reaching out to grab his wrist.

"What was that for?" Ron asked.

"Oh, um...sorry," Hermione replied, flushing slightly. "It's just...well, you jabbed instead of flicking, and I didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Right," Ron said, his eyes narrowed. "Why don't you show me how it's done then?" Hermione missed the sarcastic undertone of his question and eagerly raised her wand.

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ With a swish and a flick, her feather rose gracefully off the desk to hover several feet above their heads.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger!" Professor Flitwick cried, smiling broadly at her. "Ten points to Gryffindor, well done!" Hermione's already-pink cheeks turned bright red at his praise, and she slowly lowered her feather back to her desk.

By the end of the lesson, several other people had successfully levitated their feathers, but they all agreed that Hermione's attempt had been by far the best. They were told to practice the charm for homework and left the classroom in high spirits, talking happily amongst themselves.

"I could've handled it myself, you know," an irritated voice said over Hermione's shoulder. She and Harry turned to see Ron, who was looking rather put out.

"Handled what?" Harry asked curiously.

"The charm!" Ron replied, his voice raised. "But no, _you_ decided you just _had_ to step in and correct one teensy mistake-"

"I was just trying to help!" Hermione said indignantly. "Professor Flitwick told us to help each other out! Would you rather I'd left you to blow up half the classroom?" Ron scowled at her.

"Honestly, I don't need help from an interfering know-it-all!" he spat. "It's no wonder you haven't got any friends." Hermione gasped at the hateful words, turned on her heel, and fled down the stairs without replying, the sound of her sobs echoing back towards the group.

"Hermione, wait!" Harry called, making to go after her, but Parvati held him back.

"Let her go, Harry," she said quietly. "I know you want to go to her, but she needs to be alone right now. Trust me on this, yeah?" He met her gaze, and seeing that she indeed looked concerned for Hermione, he nodded. He then rounded on Ron.

"What was that for?" he demanded angrily.

"She was being annoying!" Ron retorted.

"And that's cause for you to call her names?"

"Well it's true, isn't it? She's always trying to be the best-"

"She's _trying_ to be _helpful,"_ Harry snarled. "And all _you_ did was make her upset." He slung his book bag a little higher onto his shoulder and glared at Ron. "It's not her fault she's good at magic, and she also happens to be a truly wonderful human being - of course, if you'd bother getting to know her instead of giving her grief, you'd already know that." His spiel finished, he turned away and hastened to join Neville, who was already halfway down the marble staircase.

Ten minutes into lunch, Harry got another message:

_Where's Lotte? Library again?_

_I don't know,_ he replied glumly. _Ron insulted her after Charms and she ran off crying. Parvati said she'd try to find her for me, as she's probably in one of the girls' toilets._

_What'd he do that for? Have you tried messaging her?_

_No, and I doubt she'll answer. The other girls said she probably needed to be alone._

_It's a girl thing, I guess. I hope she's ok - Weasley's a prat._

_Don't worry, we'll make sure she's alright. Maya knows we're here for her._

Harry tucked his parchment back into his bag and nodded across the room to Draco as he picked up his sandwich, indicating that he understood everything his brother couldn't fit into his messages. Draco and Hermione had always been connected on a slightly different level than Harry was to the two of them, and he was sure that his brother was probably even more annoyed about the situation than he was.

Hermione didn't turn up for classes for the rest of the day, but Parvati and Lavender told Harry after History of Magic that they'd found her in the girls' bathroom on the first floor. She was crying steadily, and while she thanked her roommates for their reassurance that Ron's words weren't true, she kindly but firmly informed them that she wasn't ready to come out just yet and asked if they could please leave her be. Concerned that she was so upset by Ron's comments, Harry wondered if maybe she might consider talking to him, as he'd known her much longer than any of their housemates had, so while the rest of the school went to dinner, Harry made his way down the corridor towards the bathroom in question.

"Hermione?" he called softly as he pushed open the door. "Are you in here?" A sniffle from one of the last cubicles was his answer, and after affirming that the bathroom was otherwise unoccupied - he really didn't fancy having to explain himself to a prefect or a teacher - he made his way down the row of stalls.

"Maya, it's me," he said, rapping his knuckles gently against the closed door of her stall. "Open up, will you?" Hermione sniffed again, but he heard her move and the lock slide back, and she pulled the door open rather reluctantly to reveal her tear-stained face. As soon as she saw Harry, she threw her arms around his neck and promptly broke into a fresh wave of sobs.

"Hey, don't cry," Harry said, rubbing soothing circles on her back, "I'm here. Ron didn't mean those things, I'm sure."

"Yes he d-did," Hermione hiccupped, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "He h-hates me, H-Harry. W-what have I ever d-done to h-him?"

"No one could ever hate you, Maya," Harry chastised gently. "You're too good for that. He's probably jealous, is all."

"J-jealous?" Hermione asked. "Of m-m-me?"

"Yeah. You're crazy smart, you're funny, and you're downright wonderful. What's not to love?" Hermione laughed weakly at Harry's attempt to cheer her up - he really was a wonderful friend.

"Anyone who knows better loves you, and everyone else is just an idiot," Harry said firmly. He leaned against the tiled wall and slid slowly to the floor, dragging her with him until they were sitting side-by-side. He then removed his charmed parchment from his pocket and scribbled a quick note to Draco:

_Girls' room on the first floor. She'll be ok._

_Thanks. Wish I was there too but it'd probably be weird if I walked out in the middle of dinner, so tell her I said hi? We love you, Lotte - don't forget that._

Harry held out the message for Hermione to read, and she smiled slightly through her tears.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, reaching over to give him another hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you two."

They sat in companionable silence for another ten minutes or so before deciding it was probably time to head back upstairs - the feast was most likely over, but they could probably convince Dobby to bring them some sandwiches in the Room of Requirement to make up for missing dinner. Just as they were about to stand, however, a loud crash from just outside the bathroom froze them in their tracks.

"What was that?" Hermione whispered.

"Dunno," Harry replied, hoping he didn't look as scared as he felt. Whatever made that noise must've been pretty big...

* * *

Out in the hall, Ron Weasley followed the troll as quietly as he could. He was pretty sure he'd never forget Professor Quirrell's terrified expression as long as he'd lived - the professor had burst into the Great Hall in the middle of the feast, cried out that there was a troll in the dungeons, and promptly slumped over in a dead faint. Dumbledore immediately called the school to order and instructed the prefects to lead everyone back to their dormitories while the teachers conducted a search of the school. Ron was just falling into line with the rest of the Gryffindors when he realized that Harry and Hermione hadn't been at the feast and therefore didn't know about the troll. While it was possible that they were already up in Gryffindor Tower, he somehow suspected that wasn't the case, and as it was his fault that they weren't at the feast to begin with, he soon felt guilty and slipped out of line the first chance he got. He followed a group of Hufflepuffs before going his own way, wondering to himself where his housemates could be. He was pretty sure the girls' toilet was around here somewhere, but he'd never had reason to know before...

He smelled the troll before he saw it - an impressive feat considering its size, but perhaps not so impressive when it smelled like it had rolled in sewage for several hours. Pulling his robes up over his nose, Ron crept forward and turned the corner. The troll was lumbering down the hall away from his hiding place, its horny feet thudding dully on the floor as it dragged a lethal-looking club across the stone. It paused, sniffed, and pushed its way into a door at the end of the hall.

_Perfect!_ Ron thought. _I'll lock it in and get out of here!_ Of course, there was the small matter of explaining to the teachers both how he knew where the troll was and why he was out-of-bounds in the first place, but he supposed he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, a smelly troll had a date with a deadbolt.

The satisfying _click_ of the lock hadn't finished echoing in Ron's ears when two things happened simultaneously: a high-pitched scream came from behind him, and someone yelled, "Weasley, you _moron_, that's the girls' bathroom!" Ron whirled around to see Draco Black hurtling up the corridor, and a horrified expression crossed his face as the meaning of the blonde's words sank in. Turning quickly back to the door he'd just locked, he wrestled with the bolt, but it had gotten stuck, and it took both boys a bit of finagling to get it open again. They wrenched open the door and nearly screamed at what they found. Harry and Hermione were both pressed against the back wall, their hands shaking uncontrollably as they tried to point their wands at the troll, which was slowly advancing as it smashed sinks off the walls with its club. A burst pipe doused the room with a heavy blast of water, and Hermione screamed again as shrapnel from an obliterated stall went flying in all directions.

"Do something, you idiot!" Draco shouted as he picked up a splintered piece of wood.

"What?" Ron cried, apparently unable to say anything more.

"I don't know, _anything!"_ Draco replied. "It's your fault we're in this mess in the first place!" He hurled his piece of wood at the troll but missed, and the troll took another swing at his friends, forcing them to scatter and roll across the debris-strewn floor.

"Oi! Over here!" Ron shouted, flinging a piece of pipe at the troll. It caught the troll in the shoulder and the beast turned towards the redhead, looking very much confused - it was a well-known fact that trolls weren't the brightest of creatures. Ron didn't seem to have thought any further than getting the troll's attention, however, and he hastily backed into a corner as the troll advanced on him.

"No, here!" Draco called, throwing another piece of rubble and hitting his mark. Before the troll could turn completely, Draco darted across the room to Hermione's corner, successfully confusing the slow creature.

"You alright?" he asked her, reaching out to clasp her hand briefly.

"Yes, I'm fine - just a couple scratches - but how are we going to get out of here?" Hermione asked.

She had a fair point, as the only thing they were succeeding in doing was making the troll even madder than it already was. It roared in anger and frustration as they continued to pepper it with bits of pipe, wood, and porcelain, and Harry, in a daring and probably very stupid move, leaped right onto its back, inadvertently sticking his wand up its nose in the process.

"A little help, here?" Harry called as the troll thrashed in all directions.

"How?" Hermione shouted back. "We could hit you by accident!"

In the end, it was Ron who came up with their answer. In a move that could rival Harry's for stupidity, he raised his wand and pointed it at the troll's massive club, reciting the first spell that came to mind:

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

To everyone's surprise, the club rose high into the air, and then dropped like a rock onto its owner's head with a sickening _crack._ The troll stumbled for a moment before falling face-first onto the bathroom floor. After the mass chaos of the fight, the silence was almost deafening.

"What- what did you _do_?" Hermione asked, cautiously stepping forward.

"I...I dunno," Ron admitted, looking shell-shocked. I think it's knocked out?"

Just then, the bathroom door crashed open once more to reveal Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell. Upon seeing the prostrate form of the troll, Professor Quirrell fainted dead away, and Professor McGonagall clutched at her chest, her eyes wide.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. "Explain yourselves!" The boys started stammering out apologies, but it was Hermione's voice that cut through the clearest:

"It's my fault, Professor McGonagall," she said. "I...well, it was really quite stupid, come to think of it - but I missed dinner due to some...personal circumstances, and didn't know about the troll. Harry, Draco, and Ron all came to find me to make sure I was alright, and they fought the troll to keep me safe - it was about to kill me when they got here."

The boys all gaped at her while simultaneously trying to hide their shock from the adults. Hermione - _Hermione - _had been purposely vague with a teacher, telling enough of the story that she probably wouldn't be questioned, but not revealing enough details to implicate any of them and twisting those she did tell to suit her needs. It was absolutely astounding.

"I...well, be that as it may, it was extremely unwise for you to be alone in the castle at such an hour, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall admonished. "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor, and be sure it doesn't happen again." Hermione nodded, looking appropriately ashamed, and after reassuring them that she wasn't seriously hurt, she left the room.

"As for you three, deliberately disobeying the headmaster's orders would normally be cause for detention," Professor McGonagall continued, "but I suppose I will overlook that just this once in light of what you were trying to do. You're very lucky to be alive right now - most full-grown wizards would have trouble with a mountain troll. Five points will be awarded to each of you - I will, however, be writing to your parents to inform them of the situation." The boys nodded, mumbling that they understood.

"Now, the rest of the school is finishing the feast in their common rooms, so I suggest you head off," she said. They agreed with a few more mumbles, and after Harry had retrieved his wand, the three boys left the bathroom.


	13. How Much Trouble can One School Hold?

**A/N: Thanks to HPAsherra, LittleFoot3, Liveera, MiroTheCat, daria1824, twilight4eternity, wolf princess julie, Aquila Lestrange, Gefion, Libertad-latina, Rian DaHart, Roser av Ild, pianomouse, MFG, Tiangar, RogueDragonPrincess, & princess-alice-malfoy-granger for the follows/faves, & thanks to Kermit 304, The Eclectic Bookworm, & Elased for the reviews!**

**Here's chapter 13 - JKR owns all things Potter. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

The incident with the troll changed the group dynamic slightly, as Harry and Hermione found themselves gradually accepting Ron Weasley as a friend – Harry liked that the redhead had been human enough to recognize he'd made a mistake and then tried his best to correct it, and Hermione was impressed by both Ron's unusual spell work and how far he was willing to go to apologize. Draco, however, was thoroughly cross with Ron for having hurt Hermione so badly in the first place and didn't understand how the other two could be so quick to forgive him. For his part, Ron was rather cool towards Draco as well, still of the belief that the blonde had some sort of 'Slytherin trick' up his sleeve. Recognizing that being in close proximity was inevitable, they tolerated each other for Harry and Hermione's sakes, but they certainly weren't on the fast track to becoming friends.

"Oh, grow up, you two," Hermione scoffed late one afternoon as they worked in the Room of Requirement. Ron had been joining them there for a week or so now, and he and Draco had spent the better part of the last half hour muttering at each other over their Transfiguration homework. Draco opened his mouth to reply but shut it just as quickly when Hermione threw him a death glare.

Just then, the door burst open to reveal Harry, who was panting heavily and looked terrified.

"Harry, what the-" Draco began, just as Hermione cried, "Oh my God, Harry! What happened?"

"I…great big…holy Merlin…" Harry seemed unable to speak properly and instead removed his glasses, fiddling with them with one hand as the other reached up to wipe away the sweat drenching his brow.

"Sit," Hermione commanded, pushing Harry into the closest armchair. Harry sank into the chair's plush cushion and clenched his teeth, breathing deeply.

"Start over," Draco encouraged, pulling up another chair. "What happened?" Harry shook his head vigorously as if to clear it, shuddered, and finally spoke.

"I was on my way up from the library and ran into Filch," he said. The other three cringed – it was hardly a secret that the cantankerous old caretaker felt nothing positive towards Hogwarts' students.

"Well…no, I didn't actually run into him," Harry amended, "but I heard him – he was just around the corner from where I was, no doubt looking for an excuse to give the first person he encountered detention for a month. I decided to hide and backed up, having just passed a door. I tried the handle, but it was locked – not very securely, mind you, since a simple _Alohomora_ did the trick…" he shuddered again.

"Harry, where exactly were you just now?" Hermione asked. "What did you find?"

"Third floor," he replied, "it was the forbidden third floor corridor…and it's forbidden coz there's a great big dog in it!"

"A…dog?" Draco asked, cocking his head slightly and looking confused. "I didn't think you were afraid of dogs…" He didn't outright mention Padfoot because he was pretty sure Ron didn't know those particular details as of yet, but he'd certainly seen Harry interact with Padfoot in his Animagus form plenty of times before…

"This wasn't a normal dog," Harry insisted. "It had three heads and was as big as a house!"

"Like Cerberus from Greek mythology?" Hermione questioned.

"I…yeah, I guess. Kinda. But what is something like that doing in Hogwarts?" Harry furiously swiped the back of his hand across his forehead again.

"Was there anything unusual in the corridor?" Draco asked.

"Are you saying three-headed monsters _are_ usual?" Harry replied with a snort. "I mean, I was kinda concentrating on getting out of there in one piece, but it did sorta look like he was standing on something…"

"Standing on what?" Ron wondered.

"No idea. Maybe it's…guarding something? Who knows – I just know the thing was bloody terrifying."

_"Harry!"_

"Maya, you'd say the same thing if you'd seen that beast," Harry said bluntly. "Now can we forget about this for a bit and go get some dinner? I'm starved."

The group didn't discuss the dog again, and something happened a week later to take their mind off the mystery entirely. The first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, fell on a chilly Saturday in mid-November, and, as was natural when these two rivals faced off, the whole school turned up to watch. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Draco, and Blaise chose a row as high up the stands as they could find, settling themselves behind a group of older Hufflepuffs. The Gryffindors bickered good-naturedly with the Slytherins about the rivalry, but if the rumors were true, Slytherin would win easily – Gryffindor hadn't won a match since Ron's older brother Charlie, who'd been an exceptional Seeker, had left, and they'd suffered their worst defeat in centuries at the hands of the Snakes during the previous year's tournament. The Gryffindor team had at least one new Chaser, but as the reigning champion Slytherin squad was still largely intact, the Lions weren't getting their hopes up.

"And now, ladies and gents, it is my pleasure to welcome you to the first Quidditch match of the season!" Lee Jordan, a dreadlocked third-year Gryffindor who was best friends with the Weasley twins, stood proudly in the teachers' box, shouting into a magical microphone. "It's the contest you've all been waiting for, folks, the rivalry to end all rivalries, a match that will surely go down in-"

"Jordan, get on with it, please," interrupted Professor McGonagall's voice. Lee flashed her an impish grin and bowed deeply.

"My apologies, Professor – just telling it like it is! Anyhow, please welcome the Lions of the Tower, the champions of scarlet and gold, the bravest and the best…GRYFFINDOR!" The stands roared their approval as seven red blurs shot onto the field and did a lap around the pitch before landing in the center circle.

"And now, boys and girls, allow me to introduce the speeding Serpents, the ambition from underground, the emerald and silver septet…SLYTHERIN!" The Slytherin team shot from the tunnels to boisterous applause from their supporters and a fair few jeers from the rest of the crowd.

"Unfortunately, those sneaky Snakes are our reigning champs, but the Lions look to put them in their place-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor. Slytherin won the tournament last year, we'll see what happens today. Referee Madam Hooch steps forward to address the captains!" Fifth-year Gryffindor Keeper Oliver Wood shook hands with sixth-year Chaser Marcus Flint, each looking as if they were trying to break the other's knuckles. A shrill blast from Madam Hooch's whistle sent fifteen broomsticks skyward.

"And they're off, with Gryffindor in possession!" Lee shouted. "Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor _tearing_ up the pitch, look at her go! God, she's a fine-looking girl-"

"Jordan, I'm warning you!"

"Right-o, Professor! Johnson to Bell, Katie Bell now in possession – oh, no, blocked by a Bludger, and the Quaffle's taken by Marcus Flint. Flint of Slytherin flying fast, looks pretty determined – OUCH, that must've hurt, nice one! Flint Bludgered by one of the Weasley twins – don't know which one, but really, who can tell them apart from here? – and Spinnet takes the Quaffle once more. Passes to Alicia Spinnet, the newest member of Gryffindor's starting seven, and – oh, no! – Quaffle stolen by Adrian Pucey, not entirely sure that move was legal…anyway, Slytherin in possession once again…"

Lee's commentary continued almost non-stop in this manner, interrupted only occasionally by warnings from Professor McGonagall. As Harry and his friends had never seen Gryffindor play before, they couldn't be certain, but it seemed that the lineup change was doing the Lions some good – the three Chasers worked exceptionally well together and scored a handful of very nice goals; the Weasley twins, themselves a pair of human Bludgers, effectively stopped several Slytherin attacks; and Wood was truly an outstanding Keeper. The Snakes were relentless, however, pounding the goal as much as they could while their Beaters did their best to take down their opponents. After forty-five minutes, the score was 70-90 in favor of Gryffindor, but they all knew it wasn't over yet. The Snitch was still out there somewhere, and its capture would most likely decide the game.

"Are they blind?" Harry muttered to Hermione as a Bludger shot by. "I've seen the Snitch three times already…"

"I know, Harry, I know," she replied, trying to sound reassuring. Harry had loved flying since before he could walk, and Hermione knew that her friend found the rule banning first-years from Quidditch to be incredibly frustrating. They'd never really been told _why_ that ban was in place – perhaps the staff thought that first-years wouldn't have had enough prior experience on a broom, or that they were too young? But no, second-years could play, and they were hardly any older than first-years…perhaps it was looked on as some sort of 'upperclassmen privilege?' None of the explanations really made all that much sense, to be honest.

"Look!" Ron shouted suddenly. The two Seekers had suddenly gone into a steep dive, and everyone immediately started scanning the field for the Snitch. It had to be around somewhere…

"There!" Harry whispered excitedly, pointing at a spot some fifteen feet above the grass. Sure enough, a tiny speck of gold was flitting nonchalantly in their field of vision.

"What does Kensington think he's doing?" Ron asked. Peter Kensington, the Gryffindor Seeker, had suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He looked just as confused as the spectators, almost as if he hadn't intended to stop…Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, landed smoothly and extracted something small from his sleeve, but nobody was paying him any attention anymore…

"Aaahhh!"

Several people screamed as Kensington's broom started rolling madly as if it were trying to throw its rider – it was obvious from the look on his face that he had no idea what was going on, no control over his broomstick, and the school watched with bated breath – if something didn't happen soon, he was definitely going to crash…

Harry saw several teachers whip out their wands, but they were too late to stop Kensington from careening into the side of the stadium with a sickening _thud._ Upon impact, the broomstick snapped in half, and it tumbled to earth, its owner following not far behind. Hermione shrieked and a few of the boys yelled as Kensington hit the ground – a fall like that had guaranteed the Gryffindor a plethora of broken bones, if not worse…

"What happened?" Hermione squeaked as she clung tightly to Harry and Draco's hands and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

"I dunno," Draco replied, looking as anxious as Hermione felt. He was happy that his house had won, but still…something was seriously wrong here.

"Prefects, escort your students back to your common rooms immediately!" Professor McGonagall had taken Lee's microphone and was shouting orders to the shocked crowd. Everyone began moving en masse back to the castle, the prefects calling for their charges to hurry up.

"Charmed parchment – keep us posted," Harry said to Draco, and his brother nodded quickly before hurrying to catch up to his housemates.

"What's going on, d'you think?" Ron asked as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Dunno," Harry admitted, "but I'm sure we'll know soon. Dumbledore will let us know…"

"I have a feeling it's something big," Hermione added. "I mean, broomsticks don't just decide to throw their riders, do they?"

"You think it was cursed?" Ron asked, looking both perplexed and horrorstruck at the very idea.

"It's possible…but the question is, _why?_"

Several hours later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, halfheartedly munching on sandwiches supplied by the house-elves. Professor McGonagall had stopped by some time earlier to tell them that, on the headmaster's orders, no one was to leave their common rooms for the rest of the night. The trio were busy conversing with Draco via the charmed parchment.

_Any word?_ Hermione asked.

_No, nothing new,_ Draco replied. _It's getting boring down here, to tell you the truth._

_Same. Exploding Snap can only get you so far. What do the Slytherins think of this?_

_They're…confused, I guess. Some of them thought it was funny at first, seeing a Gryffindor hurt, but they shut up pretty quick when somebody else suggested Dark magic._

_That's what I said too!_ Hermione scribbled, nearly breaking the tip of her quill in her haste to respond. _Broomsticks don't just do something like that out of the blue. Someone must've jinxed it._

_But why? It's not like Kensington was particularly special…_

_We don't get it either. Guess we'll just have to wait and see._

By the following afternoon, they had their answer – an unofficial one, of course, since the teachers hadn't made public the full story, but word was that someone had put a Hurling Hex on Kensington's broom, and the curse had activated when he'd gone into the dive. The boy in question was currently undergoing treatment for broken bones and moderately severe internal damage in St. Mungo's, and he was considered lucky to be alive – if he'd fallen from much higher up, he probably would've died. The knowledge that Kensington had been withdrawn from Hogwarts, the one piece of the story anyone could definitely confirm, spread through the school like wildfire.

"Why, though?" Hermione asked for the hundredth time as she, Harry, Ron, and Draco sat in the Room of Requirement.

"Nobody really knows," Harry said, sounding exhausted. "I'd heard tell that he was a Muggle-born, which is always something you've got to be careful about letting other people know…"

"But I'm pretty sure he's not the only one on Gryffindor's team," Hermione countered.

"Exactly. We're back at square one."

On Thursday, Madam Hooch asked the Gryffindors to stay behind after flying class.

"I'm sure you're all well aware of what happened last Saturday, so I won't go into details," she began, "but the fact of the matter is, Gryffindor needs a new Seeker. Normally, first-years aren't allowed to play on the house teams, but no one else wants to try for it..." The first-years glanced at each other in worry – Madam Hooch's words weren't exactly reassuring. Did she really think it was a good idea to let the first-years try out because everyone else was too afraid?

"Please follow me to the Quidditch pitch," she instructed. Wait…_what?_ Were they really all trying out _now?_

"Er…Professor?" Hermione asked cautiously once they'd reached the pitch, "is this really the best idea?"

"What? Of course it is," Madam Hooch snapped. "I can assure you I've given the matter serious thought and have discussed it with the headmaster. If any of you are qualified to do so, Gryffindor will have a new Seeker before the night is out. Mount your brooms!"

And so it was that the first ever first-year Quidditch trials in the history of Hogwarts took place. Oliver Wood, who'd joined them at the conclusion of his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, tossed Muggle golf balls for them to catch, and once the pitch was littered with hundreds of the little white balls, Madam Hooch released a real Snitch. Harry completely forgot about the oddity of the situation as his instincts kicked in, and he came out of a sharp dive less than five minutes later with the glittering ball trapped in his fist.

"Excellent work, Mr. Potter!" Madam Hooch called. "Truly remarkable flying. We certainly have a talented group this year" – here she gestured to Ron, Hermione, and Dean, who had also all flown very well – "but I think we have our clear winner. Mr. Potter, what say you to becoming the new Gryffindor Seeker?" Harry's jaw dropped.

"Me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, you," Madam Hooch replied, looking impatient. "Kensington's gone and Gryffindor needs a replacement. You fit the bill, so you're in."

"Welcome to the team, Harry," Wood said, offering his hand and smiling widely. "You'll be great, I can tell." Still not sure what to say, Harry stammered his thanks, and after promising to meet with Wood the following evening, he followed his housemates back to the castle.

"What did Madam Hooch want with you lot?" Draco asked once they were all settled in the Room of Requirement.

"Harry's the new Gryffindor Seeker," Ron blurted out.

_"What?"_

Hermione quickly summarized the events of the afternoon.

"I don't like it," Draco said once she'd finished.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "It's not my fault Madam Hooch changed the rule-"

"No, that's not what I meant!" Draco snapped.

"Well then what _did_ you mean?" Ron challenged, narrowing his eyes at Draco.

"I think he _meant_," Hermione said deliberately, glaring at each of the boys pointedly before continuing, "that it's quite an interesting coincidence, don't you think?"

"What is?" Harry asked.

"Harry…don't you think it's odd that a horrible situation reeking of Dark magic causes them to change the Quidditch rules the same year _you_ came to Hogwarts, and then _you_ get picked to actually play? You and your mum did defy Voldemort, and you were the last ones to do so before he disappeared…no, Draco's right. I don't like this at all."


	14. Conundrums and Correspondence

**A/N: Thanks to AlyssaMarie4Eva, Crye 4 Me, Intens1ty, NarinaPrincess12, Rogue200315, bhalesfb, dragonfly1339, Auroras Jenkins, Commando678, Lebiram, TheBravestOfThemAll, You'll never find me, angelgenius2, kiery101, perfectships, sbolzzz, LoonyRebekahJane, TrinaAngel, imjanonymous, mudbloodpotter05, piper-pants, rockmusicismylife, jezmp62, Megan Hermione Lovegood, Sikanda, & sacredmiko for all your follows/faves, & thanks to RRW, Hearts Glow, KodeV, Guest, & mudbloodpotter05 for the reviews!**

**A quick thought on Ron - a few of you commented that Harry & Hermione accept Ron much too easily after what he did, & I can totally see that. However, this is no worse than what happened in canon - not that I'm excusing it, of course, but in canon Harry & Ron are downright awful to Hermione right up until the troll incident, & then suddenly all's forgiven. Well then. Anyway, I didn't want to cut Ron out entirely - this would've most likely given me some issues down the road, as the Weasley family as a whole plays a rather large part in canon, & I rather like them for the most part - so he'll still be involved in some (most?) of their adventures, but his role might end up being a little different/not as prominent/etc. Hopefully that appeases some of you a little bit!**

**On with chapter 14, then - JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, one long-fingered hand gliding slowly down the pages of an enormous old book as he checked the information within against the scroll of meticulous notes spread flat on his desk. What he was reading made sense, and yet, at the same time, it didn't - it was all very vague, for one, and each new find seemed to create more questions than answers. Theories, after all, were nothing without some sort of concrete proof.

The scroll, printed in Dumbledore's loopy script, contained everything the Order of the Phoenix knew about Tom Riddle, alias Voldemort, but what it _didn't _contain was the answer to a very important question: Why had Voldemort sought to murder the Potters? He and his followers had tortured and killed dozens, if not hundreds of people, but very rarely did Voldemort seek anyone out so specifically. Twelve years after James Potter's death, the answer still remained elusive, and Dumbledore was getting worried. Harry was at Hogwarts now, in the thick of his magical training, and Dumbledore would be a fool to guarantee the boy's safety even within the castle's walls - the old headmaster did everything in his power to keep his students safe, but Dark wizards were exceptionally skilled at moving in shadows, avoiding suspicion, and the like. The circumstances surrounding Peter Kensington's injury and Harry's subsequent selection as his replacement worried Dumbledore even further - something definitely wasn't right.

Pausing in his perusal of the old book, Dumbledore turned and removed his Pensieve from the cabinet behind his desk, placing it carefully on the polished wooden surface. His fingers fumbled beneath the desk for a moment before successfully finding the hidden latch that opened the secret drawer, from which he extracted a small crystal vial. He dumped the contents of the vial into the Pensieve and prodded the substance with his wand. It swirled slightly, light and fluffy as a cloud, before condensing into the form of a woman, her feet firmly planted in the stone basin. The figure revolved slowly on the spot and spoke in eerie, trancelike tones:

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord has arrived in Wizarding Britain. In the darkest hour just before dawn, he will join forces with legends of old, and when the smoke clears, the final score shall be known._

"Yes, I remember it clearly...but what does it all _mean,_ Sybil?" Dumbledore murmured to himself. Sybil Trelawney had spoken these words on a chilly winter's night in late 1980 during her interview for the vacant Divination post. Dumbledore couldn't deny the eccentric woman's words were a true prophecy, due to the applicant's sudden rigid stature, glassy eyes, and deep, chilling speech so unlike her usual airy soprano, but he'd never before heard a prophecy that gave so little information. Most of the prophecies in the Department of Mysteries gave at least some sort of hint as to who they involved, but this one merely said that their hero had 'arrived in Wizarding Britain' - well, that could apply to any number of people! The prophecy seemed to suggest that this person would face Voldemort in some sort of final conflict, but it gave no further information on time, location, how many people...again, more questions than answers. And what did the prophecy mean when it said 'he will join forces with legends of old?' The Wizarding world claimed a number of ancient legends, but once again, the prophecy offered no suggestions on narrowing the search.

Dumbledore had concluded that Voldemort must have seen something threatening in the Potters specifically - if Dumbledore took it that the other wizard had somehow heard the prophecy and had chosen to interpret the first line as, 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord has been _born_ into Wizarding Britain', that would explain his desire to take down Harry, but that theory had a number of gaping holes. If that was Voldemort's interpretation, why had he only gone after the Potters? Numerous other prominent Wizarding families, the Longbottoms and the Malfoys most notably, had children born within months of Harry Potter. True, Frank and Alice Longbottom and Lucius Malfoy had all been tortured into madness, and Narcissa Malfoy was dead, but all of that had happened _after _Voldemort had vanished, and therefore not at his hand. Was this one of those prophecies where one party solidified the other by actively choosing him or her from a group of applicable candidates? Such a scenario would make Harry the sole 'correct answer' to the riddle, but there wasn't really a way to tell if that were the case either.

Dumbledore sighed and removed the vial's contents before locking everything back up again and returning his attention to the book. If only there were more clues!

At last, he came across something that looked promising, although it had nothing to do with prophecies or legends. The small paragraph on blood magic caught his attention, and he read it carefully several times before making a few notes. Once he was satisfied with his work, he extracted a fresh piece of parchment from the pile on his desk and began to pen a letter to Lily.

"She's not going to like this very much," he muttered to himself as his quill scratched against the parchment.

* * *

"You need to write to your mum and Sirius," Hermione urged. "This is something they'd want to know about, definitely." Harry rummaged in his bag for parchment and quill while the other three settled themselves around the coffee table.

"Should I tell them about the dog?" Harry asked once he'd found what he was looking for.

"I wouldn't," Draco said. "It's a really weird thing to have in a school, but we weren't supposed to know it was there in the first place - unless you're up for some awkward questions, I'd leave the dog out until we have a legitimate reason to mention it." They all agreed that this seemed to be a reasonable route to take, and after much discussion and crossing out, Harry had a final draft of his letter:

_Dear Mum and Padfoot,_

_This qualifies as 'urgent' but would be too complicated/long to explain via charmed parchment. Have you heard about the accident at the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match last weekend? Maya said there was a big article on the front page of the _Prophet,_ so I wouldn't be surprised if you already knew, but in case you didn't, someone put a Hurling Hex on the Gryffindor Seeker's broom before the game, and the hex activated when he dove after the Snitch. He was pretty badly hurt - he's still in St. Mungo's as far as we know - and his parents pulled him out of school. Madam Hooch (our flying instructor) then insisted on bending the rules that first-years can't play and had us all try out at the end of flying class today - she chose me to be Gryffindor's new Seeker. Normally, I'd be ecstatic to play Quidditch, but the others and I all agree that something doesn't seem right here. Thoughts on this would be much appreciated._

_Maya and Draco send their love, and our friend Ron says hi - we can't wait to see you at Christmas!_

_Cheers,_

_Harry_

"Looks good to me," Hermione nodded after reading the letter over Harry's shoulder. "Send it off straight away." The quartet took a detour to the Owlery on their way to dinner, where Hedwig greeted Harry with an affectionate nip before allowing him to secure the letter to her leg.

"Fly safe, Hedwig," he murmured, and the beautiful white owl soared out into the night.

They received a reply two days later, the alteration to Lily's usually neat handwriting suggesting she'd penned it in a hurry:

_Dear Harry,_

_I agree - I don't like this at all. I'm not going to forbid you from playing, as I'm sure you'd have tried out of your own volition at some point anyway, but I must caution you to be extra careful - Quidditch is an incredibly dangerous game to begin with, and as you saw with this year's opening match, it's all too easy to stage something terrible and make it look like an accident. We have enemies worse than most people's, and this has Dark magic written all over it. Take every precaution that you can - never walk to or from the pitch alone, keep your broom locked in your trunk at all times when you're not flying (I'll teach you all some useful locking spells when you come home), and keep on your guard during games. Hermione, Draco, and anyone else you can trust should keep an eye on the crowd._

_Dumbledore has similar concerns and wrote to me about the same time you did - he also mentioned something very important he discovered in his research, something we all think you should know about. We'll talk more about this over the break, as it's not something that should be put in writing (Dumbledore knows how to securely charm letters to kingdom come, but as it's me writing this one I'm not going to chance it). Suffice it to say that we might be doing something a little different this year._

_You'll be home for the holidays in just a few short weeks - Padfoot and I are so excited to see you all and hear what you've been up to. Until then, constant vigilance, my dears. See you soon!_

_Love,_

_Mum_

"Well, Mum didn't really tell us all that much that we didn't already know, but it's good that she's aware of what's going on," Harry said once he'd finished reading.

"I wonder what Dumbledore found out?" Hermione mused, looking thoughtful. They tossed around ideas for nearly half an hour, but with Dumbledore, it could've been anything, and so they eventually gave up. The only thing they could agree on was that it had something to do with Voldemort - they knew their headmaster was still tirelessly researching the evil wizard and his motives, and it certainly qualified as a topic inadvisable to mention in normal correspondence.

The remaining few weeks of the term flew by, and before they knew it, they'd finished their mid-year exams and were packing their trunks to head home. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Neville shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express for the journey home, many of their friends popping in to say hello or wish them happy holidays as the train snaked further south. Most of the trip was rather uneventful, but after lunch, they found themselves with a good story to tell involving Pansy Parkinson and Ron's pet rat. Scabbers spent most of his time asleep in the Gryffindor boys' dormitories, as Hermione found rats creepy and therefore banned Ron from ever bringing his pet to the Room of Requirement (Ron didn't complain, however, as Crookshanks often followed them, and the huge ginger cat had once looked at Scabbers as if he were a particularly tasty treat). When Pansy showed up in the early afternoon, determined to annoy them as best she could, Scabbers stunned them all by biting her. Pansy fled the compartment, shrieking loudly that Ron had better prepare to face the Wizengamot when she inevitably contracted some deadly disease from his 'disgusting pest,' and the group didn't stop laughing for some time afterwards. By the time they reached London, they were all exceptionally tired and more than ready for a home-cooked meal, and the trio greeted Padfoot, Lily, and the Grangers enthusiastically when they met up on the platform. They waved goodbye to Ron and Neville, calling spirited greetings as they did so, before casually leaning against the barrier to return to Muggle King's Cross.

The three children chattered almost nonstop as Lily navigated through the late December traffic, but the excitement of seeing everyone wore off as fatigue set in, and they were all fast asleep in the backseat by the time they reached Surrey. Lily coaxed them out of the car with the promise of dinner, laughing softly at how sleepy they all looked and suggesting that they might just relax and watch telly while she finished making dinner.

"You all had a good term, then?" Hermione's mother asked when they were all seated at the table. "You didn't write all that much, you know." She gave the children a mock-stern look, and they did their best to look sheepish.

"As good as can be, I suppose," Draco said with a laugh, and Harry and Hermione chuckled in agreement.

"There's so much going on, it's almost mad!" Hermione added, "but I absolutely love it so far."

"Mad is right," Harry nodded as he contemplated a forkful of potatoes. "Took me weeks just to figure out those staircases! But I agree, it's an awesome place." The three friends took turns sharing various experiences of the term - nothing too in-depth, as they were still very much looking forward to bedtime, but enough to keep everyone entertained throughout the meal. It wasn't until they were making their way through dessert that Harry remembered the latter half of his mother's letter.

"So what did Professor Dumbledore write to you about?" he asked. Lily and Sirius exchanged glances.

"Erm...it's kind of a long story, Harry," Lily cautioned. "Are you sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow?"

"I guess...can I at least have an idea?"

"Well...we're going to your aunt and uncle's for Christmas dinner."


	15. The Christmas Holidays

**A/N: Thanks this round go to the odd vampire, snowangl05, pinkcrazyness, geege, brendaleestarnes, Lyn1991, uW1shUkn3w, stbambam, kjeh, croaker2003, faircash1, Olveg, NCIS-TIVADENSI4EVAGryffindor, Master of Darkness and Light, Frozen-Hallows, miraldea, malpensante, & RAD092515 for the follows/favorites, & to J.D. von Wolfe, Kermit 304, The Eclectic Bookworm, KodeV, & mudbloodpotter05 for the reviews! Couldn't just leave out the Dursleys, now could I? & that prophecy probably won't come back for a while...& it won't be the last, either.**

**Here's chapter 15 - it's rather odd writing a Christmas chapter in May, haha. JKR owns all things Potter as always. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

Harry nearly choked on his pudding. Whatever he'd been expecting his mother to say, it hadn't been _that._

"We're..._what?" _he managed to get out, now looking more confused than anything else, "you mean...Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia?" Lily's lips pursed ever so slightly as she nodded.

"Yes, Vernon and Petunia," she confirmed. "We're going to their house for Christmas dinner."

"But...why?" Harry asked. "I mean...I've hardly ever even heard you talk about them."

"Um...not to be rude or anything, but what's going on?" Hermione asked, looking from Harry to Lily and back with slightly raised eyebrows.

"I suppose it'd be easier if I just explained everything," Lily said with a sigh. "Are you sure you want to hear this tonight? I was under the impression that you were all rather tired."

"Mum, you can't just drop something big like that and expect us to wait till tomorrow for the details," Harry said with a chuckle. Draco and Hermione readily agreed, their curiosity overriding their need for sleep for the time being.

"Now that's a Marauder response if I've ever heard one," Sirius chortled. Lily rolled her eyes but had to agree.

"Harry, love, you're right - I hardly ever do talk about my sister. We don't really get along - she thinks magic is unnatural; called me a freak more than once after I got my Hogwarts letter. She was jealous about all the positive attention I got from our parents for it, and although she'd rather die than admit it, I think she secretly longed to be able to do magic herself. Of course, she can't - she's as Muggle as they come, my sister. She did exactly what was expected of her – finished school with respectable marks, married a very traditional, no-nonsense man, and is now a housewife in the type of neighborhood where they frown on anything even remotely out of the ordinary. You keeping up so far?" Everyone assured her that they were, and Lily continued.

"Apparently, Professor Dumbledore contacted my sister shortly after my husband's death," she said. "He told her everything that had happened, and he told her his plans for hiding us. He didn't have much to go on at the time, but he suspected that putting us near our only remaining kin would serve a purpose later."

"And is that what he wrote to you about, then?" Draco inquired.

"Yes. He was doing some research into leads about Voldemort when he came across some information on blood magic. From what I understand, I created a sort of protective bond over you, Harry, the night Voldemort came after us. A mother's love for her child is one of the strongest bonds out there, and it only strengthens when protection comes into play. Love is one of the most complex and underestimated forces in the world, and as such, a sacrifice in love's name is one of the most powerful a person can make. I was willing to do whatever I had to do, even give up my own life, to keep you safe, and that solidified when our curses collided and blew up the house. The protection would've been strongest if I actually _had _died for you, but apparently it's still pretty prevalent nevertheless. Dumbledore still isn't quite sure how this form of magic works, but as love is one of the few things Voldemort truly doesn't understand, it's a comforting thing to know about, at any rate."

"I still don't get what this has to do with Aunt Petunia," Harry said.

"I'm getting there," Lily replied with a laugh. "Stop being so impatient. As I said, the protection isn't nearly as strong as an actual life sacrifice would've been, so as a precaution, Dumbledore suggested we invoke a side branch of blood magic. Any residence housing blood kin can be included in this charm - if we can call the houses of our relatives home at least once a year, the charm will extend to them. In other words, since Petunia is my sister and we therefore share blood, as long as she willingly allows us into her home, the charm will connect her to us and create a safe haven - worst case scenario, if something were to happen to either of us, the other could go to Petunia's house, and the blood bond would basically act like a Fidelius of sorts - we couldn't be touched there."

"That's complicated, but fascinating at the same time," Hermione said. "It's really quite a shame your relationship with your sister is so rocky."

"Honestly, it's been like that for so long, I've almost forgotten when it was ever any different," Lily said, sounding almost regretful. "Anyway, she's not a fan of the idea, but she understands why it has to happen - we might not have the best relationship, but she certainly doesn't want me dead. She was the one who suggested Christmas dinner, actually - figured since she's already cooking the meal, it's not like it would be something she'd have to arrange specially just to have us over. And honestly, I can't disagree with that - the more stress we can eliminate from this before it starts, the better."

"Are we...all going?" Draco wanted to know.

"The four of us, yes. It's not ideal, but I told Petunia I'm not leaving you two to your own devices - I'd come back to find we no longer had a house." Everyone laughed at the accusation, unable to deny its accuracy in the slightest.

"We'll do our gift exchange here in the morning, and we'll head to their house later that afternoon," Lily said. "That way, you three can still spend part of your holiday together. Now, I think we've talked plenty for tonight - off to bed, you lot!"

* * *

The remaining days before the twenty-fifth passed in a haze of Christmas tree decorating, cookie baking, gift wrapping, and plenty of holiday cheer. Sirius kept them all entertained by loudly singing Christmas carols at all hours, and the children made sure to watch their favorite Muggle Christmas films whenever they aired on television. Before they knew it, it was Christmas morning.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!" Sirius sang as he pounced on both Harry and Draco's beds in turn. "Happy Christmas!" He grinned at the boys as they groggily sat up. It was still dark outside.

"What time is it?" Draco mumbled, still sounding very much asleep.

"Not quite half seven," Sirius replied, still smiling broadly. "Early, but Lily's making breakfast and there are heaps of interesting packages under the tree." He winked, and the boys were suddenly wide awake and rushing into their dressing gowns. They raced down the stairs, their slippers making heavy contact with each step, and Sirius bit back his laughter. Harry and Draco were fast closing in on the quintessential 'sleep late as often as possible' syndrome developed by most teenagers, but when it came to Christmas, they were still very much little kids.

"Happy Christmas!" Lily chirped as they entered the kitchen. She was in the process of frying bacon, but she set the spatula aside for a moment to give them each a kiss. "Breakfast is almost ready, if you two could please set the table."

Their Christmas breakfast was a veritable feast of eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and muffins, and they dug in eagerly while enjoying a record of Lily's favorite childhood carols. As promised, the Grangers joined them after the meal, and Hermione squealed excitedly as she hugged everyone in turn and placed her gifts under the tree. Finally, breakfast had been cleaned up and the group of seven was seated comfortably around the tree, ready to dig in.

The next hour was filled with the sounds of ripping paper and delighted exclamations as they exchanged gifts. The boys were particularly excited about their new brooms, which were beautifully polished and had the words 'Nimbus Two Thousand' stamped in gold on the handle, and Hermione gasped appreciatively at an intricately embossed copy of _The Winter's Tale, _the Shakespeare play from which her parents had chosen her name. The children gave each other special quills and heaps of their favorite sweets, and the Grangers gave Sirius and Lily a gift certificate to a nearby restaurant they all liked, which prompted a discussion of an outing for the four adults once the children had returned to Hogwarts. The final gifts, from Sirius to the children, turned out to be three identical delicate chains crafted of fine gold. There were no charms or other adornments on the necklaces.

"What do these do, Padfoot?" Hermione asked as she examined hers, suspecting that the chains were magical somehow.

"Sharp as always, Hermione. They are indeed magical - straight from the Black family vaults, in fact. Once you have these necklaces on, you're the only ones who can take them off - no matter what you do to them, no one else can remove them, not even by force. Nice thing to have if you have something you don't want getting lost. Lily and I have them too." Draco, suddenly recalling what he'd seen Lily wearing on hers, had an idea.

"I know what I need to put on mine," he said. "Be right back." He disappeared upstairs and returned a few minutes later carrying a ring, which he slipped on the chain before fastening it around his neck.

"Whose is that?" Hermione asked curiously. It was obvious from the band's small size and slender cut that the ring was a woman's.

"It was my mother's," Draco replied quietly. "Her engagement ring. She gave it to me in that letter I read on my last birthday - wanted me to have something of hers to hold onto, and to pass on in the future if I felt so inclined. It's also a Black family heirloom."

"How's that work?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't your father have given her a Malfoy ring?"

"Not necessarily," Sirius said. He glanced at Draco as if asking permission, and the blonde shrugged.

"You probably understand it better than I do," Draco said. "My mother kind of explained it in her letter, but I obviously don't know the intricacies of all that Pureblood stuff." Sirius laughed.

"Fair point - courting rituals aren't exactly something you pay attention to when you're four," he said with a wink. "Anyway, in the really old Pureblood families, when a man wants to propose, it's customary to let him choose the ring from either of the families' vaults - the way they look at it, the marriage is bringing both families together, so any of their treasures is fair game. Whichever family the groom _doesn't _choose the ring from gifts something from their own vault to the couple – that way, the newlyweds get a piece of history from each side of their joined family."

"So your paternal grandparents must've given something else to your parents, then," Hermione concluded. "I wonder what it was? And is there a reason your father chose that particular ring?"

"As to the first question, I don't know," Draco replied, "but I do know the answer to the second one. Apparently all the available options in the Malfoy vault were highly ostentatious and very large - my father wanted only the very best for my mother, but he thought such a ring would look ridiculous on her slim fingers, and he decided that the style of this one suited her much better. Called it 'simplistic elegance,' or something like that."

Once he finished his explanation, Draco removed his necklace so the others could see the ring more closely. It was indeed a fairly simple trinket, but there was no doubt of its quality, or its beauty - a single small diamond was flanked on either side by a trio of tiny ones, and the platinum band featured elegant scrollwork underneath the setting. Simple, but stunning.

"Thank you, Padfoot," Draco said once he'd gotten the ring back and re-fastened the chain. "I've been wanting to keep this on me for a long time but couldn't figure out how."

"Anytime," Sirius replied. "I have no doubt you two will find something to put on yours as well," he added, gesturing towards Harry and Hermione. They agreed and donned their own necklaces before turning the conversation to the most recent Puddlemere match, a fourteen-hour thriller against the Appleby Arrows.

* * *

All too soon, it was time for their trip to the Dursleys'. Harry was slightly nervous, as he had no idea what to expect – his mother hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said communication with her sister was rare. After failing yet again to flatten his messy black hair, Harry gave up and made his way downstairs, meeting the rest of his family in the entryway. Lily confirmed once more that they had everything, and the quartet got into the car.

Number four, Privet Drive was very much like the other houses on its street – neat, tidy, and ordinary. Not a chip of paint was missing from the house's exterior, and the entire property looked well kept and orderly. It was a sharp contrast from the Potter-Black house, where one was always in danger of tripping over a forgotten Quaffle, someone's shoes, or, if he was feeling particularly mischievous, Padfoot in his Animagus form. Lily gave them all one last look before reaching out and pressing her finger firmly to the doorbell. They could hear the chime ring throughout the house, and a moment later, the door opened.

The enormous blonde boy who appeared before them looked extremely uncomfortable – if it were any other situation, one might say it seemed to be because his suit appeared to be a tad too tight, but the quartet suspected this wasn't the case. Dudley Dursley – for this boy was indeed Harry's cousin – had a very fat face and a prominent double chin, which was trembling slightly as he took in the sight of the people on his doorstep.

"Dudders, where are your manners?" a feminine voice called from within the house. "Invite them in like I told you, darling."

"I…yes," Dudley stammered, shaking his head vigorously as if to clear it, "come in. May I take your coats?"

"Thank you, Dudley, that would be lovely," Lily said kindly, slipping off her coat and handing it to her nephew. Harry and Draco exchanged looks and fought the urge to roll their eyes – was Dudley really that afraid of them?

"Ah…Lily." They finally got a glimpse of the feminine voice's owner as Petunia joined them. Aside from the similar hair color, Petunia was the polar opposite of her son – tall, thin, and bony. Her facial features were sharp, and her expression was wary. Like Dudley, she was dressed smartly, having chosen a frilly cocktail dress for the occasion, and not a single hair was out of place.

"Petunia. Happy Christmas." The sisters looked like they wanted to say more but couldn't figure out how to continue the conversation, and no one else knew how to break the ice. It made for an incredibly awkward silence.

"Shall we…move to the sitting room, then?" Petunia finally suggested. The hallway was starting to feel rather crowded.

"Yes, thank you." Lily, Sirius, Harry, and Draco followed Petunia and Dudley into the sitting room and seated themselves on one sofa, the Dursleys taking the other.

"Petunia?" a man's voice roared.

"In the sitting room, Vernon," Petunia replied. A beefy, red-faced man with a large mustache came into view, straightening his suit jacket with a huff when he saw their company.

"That them, then?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, dear," Petunia said. "My sister, Lily; her son, Harry; and…" she trailed off, unsure of how to finish the introductions.

"This is Sirius Black, a longtime family friend," Lily supplied helpfully, "and this is Draco, his cousin's son. We all live together." Vernon harrumphed as if to express his distaste for their living arrangement.

After that, the attempts at conversation were few and far between. Harry tried asking his cousin about his hobbies, but Dudley merely squeaked out "video games" and "telly" before promptly falling silent again, making no effort to continue the exchange. Petunia and Lily tried talking of their childhoods, but their chatter sounded too carefree, their laughter too high and obviously forced, and that also fell by the wayside rather quickly. Vernon refused to contribute at all except to say that Dudley "went to Smeltings – no namby-pamby riffraff here", a statement followed by a glare to his company as if to suggest that they fell precisely into this latter category. The rest of the time, he merely muttered unflattering comments every so often while nursing a large glass of brandy. It was almost a relief when Petunia announced dinner – the food gave them something to focus on and made for an occasional talking point when a compliment was due. At least the roast was good.

It was another hour after dinner before the adults finally decided it was time to leave. The sisters hugged and made promises to keep in touch, but the exchange sounded scripted, as if the women would much rather have to face some of the more temperamental plants Professor Sprout kept in the Hogwarts greenhouses. When they returned home, Harry and Draco promptly collapsed on the sofa, yanking off their ties and shrugging out of their suit jackets.

"Anything that requires wearing a suit on a holiday ought to be banned," Harry said firmly as he reclined into the couch cushions and undid the uncomfortably restricting button at his throat. "That house was like a museum, I swear."

"I hear you," Draco agreed. "It felt like a charade, not a home. And no offense, but your relatives are something else."

"You're not really one to talk, you know," Harry replied with a snort. He expected Draco to be offended, but to his surprise, his brother just laughed.

"I guess not, not when my family tree's full of blood supremacists, Death Eaters, and murderers. There's one upside to that, though."

"What's that?" Harry asked. It was Draco's turn to snort.

"My family tree might be a mess, but at least it keeps things interesting."


	16. Quirrell, Quidditch, and Questions

**A/N: Thank you so much to nikkistew2, mssweetychessgir, gypsymooneysgirl7733, bakerusaf, aeireis, AllWasWell07, akisalo, LoganRiley, Esrath, Old Girl Lost, rugratfeen, & fanfictionfan1990 for the follows/faves, thanks to mudbloodpotter05 & KodeV for the reviews (oh, I definitely had fun writing that awkward Christmas dinner!), & special thanks to Megan Hermione Lovegood for adding my story to your 'favorite stories' community!**

**Alrighty, on to chapter 16 - you know the drill; JKR owns all things Potter. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

Once Christmas was over, the rest of the break flew by, and before they knew it, Harry, Hermione, and Draco were back on the Hogwarts Express. They spent the morning playing Exploding Snap and the afternoon recounting their holidays to Ron and Neville, who joined them shortly after lunch. The other two boys were shocked when Harry and Draco told of their disastrous visit to the Dursleys; Hermione, to whom they'd told the story on Boxing Day, tried to focus on a book in an effort to block out the tale but couldn't help clucking her tongue disapprovingly every once in a while. She'd made it quite clear when she first heard it what she thought of the whole thing – no matter how uncomfortable the Dursleys had been, there was no excuse for their rude behavior. Ron then lightened the mood with a story about an elaborate prank Percy had fallen victim to at the hands of Fred, George, and their little sister Ginny, the latter of who had actually come up with the idea in the first place when she'd decided that Percy's ego needed some serious deflating. The friends laughed long and hard when Ron finished – Percy was constantly strutting around the halls fingering his prefect badge with a smug look on his face; he really could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.

Being back at Hogwarts was wonderful, but the trio had a slightly bittersweet moment when they realized they'd have to separate in the entrance hall. As they'd done in their years before coming to the castle, Harry, Hermione, and Draco had spent almost the entirety of the holidays together, and the brief stint of togetherness almost made having to split up again worse.

"Charmed parchment," Draco said. "Keep me posted, and I'll see you at dinner. Maybe we can meet up later." The thought of the Room of Requirement cheered them up a bit, and it was with a smile on his face that the blonde squeezed Hermione's hand and clapped his brother on the back before taking the stairs down to the Slytherin dungeons.

And so it was that the winter term at Hogwarts began. The friends quickly settled back into their old routine of attending classes by day and lounging in the Room of Requirement by night. Ron joined them occasionally, and they invited Neville to do so as well, an proposition that the round-faced boy gladly accepted. Harry and Hermione made sure that Draco knew that he was more than welcome to tell his Slytherin friends about the room, but Draco refrained from doing so – unlike the much more open Gryffindors, he said, Slytherins were harder to read, and he didn't want any of his housemates knowing of their special place unless he trusted them fully. Blaise and Tracey in particular were two people who could feasibly garner an invitation in the future, but Draco wanted to get to know them just a little better before he extended the offer. After all, it was a special kind of Slytherin who would accept a hangout frequented by members of their rival house.

The one notable difference between the fall and winter terms was that Harry now had Quidditch practice. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, introduced him to the team a few days after they returned to the castle, and Harry officially joined practice the following week. Wood, who was a good-looking fifth-year with broad shoulders and a Scottish accent, seemed optimistic about the team's prospects now that Harry had joined, and they trained long and hard for their next match against Hufflepuff, which would take place in February.

January turned out to be a cold, dark, and snowy month. Students and staff alike bundled up in hats, scarves, and thick woolen cloaks when they had to venture outside, and chilly drafts snaked through the castle's vast corridors. Ever one for reading, Hermione did a little research and learned to perform a charm that created portable bluebell flames, which she kept in a jar in her bag and brought out to warm the group in the event they were stuck in the courtyard during break. The cold didn't stop them from having fun, however – massive snowball fights were a common source of entertainment when students weren't in class.

The only thing that slightly unnerved the group, and the trio in particular, was the complete lack of anything sinister. In the first term, they'd had a corridor forbidden on pain of death, a break-in at a place that was supposed to be impenetrable, a severe accident involving a student's departure from school, and Madam Hooch's sudden desire to let the first-years play Quidditch – normally, the lack of anything bad would be comforting, but so much was yet unresolved, so the fact that nothing _had_ happened thus far was almost scarier. Maybe, Draco reasoned, the trouble was actually gone and they just didn't know it, but Harry and Hermione remained skeptical, and even Draco didn't really believe his own false optimism.

"There's no way," Harry said with a shake of his head. "As much as I'd like to say otherwise, I have a feeling we're not done yet."

Harry's less-than-pleasant prediction turned out to be dead on – less than two weeks before the Quidditch match, he was making his way back to Gryffindor Tower after a particularly exhausting practice, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed instead of finishing off the last of his Charms essay that was due in the morning. He was halfway down the third floor when he heard it:

"No…please, no…don't make me do it again…"

The pleading voice was that of a young man, and Harry followed it two doors down to a spare classroom. The door was ajar, and he poked his head around the frame, the sight he found stunning him into silence and rooting him in place. Professor Quirrell was crouched on the floor with his head in his hands, looking thoroughly distraught.

"No, please…I don't want to…I _can't…_" The professor sounded as if he might burst into tears at any moment.

"Er…Professor?" Harry asked. He wasn't really sure if speaking was the right thing to do, but Quirrell looked so…_lost._ Quirrell, however, was so caught up in his own world that he didn't notice that he wasn't alone.

"Are you alright?" Harry tried again after several long moments. He wished Hermione were here; she was better at the whole 'comforting' thing.

Still no response.

"Erm…well, I do hope you're alright, at any rate," Harry finished lamely. He felt awkward leaving, but he didn't want to push Quirrell in case making the professor aware of his presence made it worse, so he slowly backed out of the room, fleeing up the nearest staircase as soon as he was sure he was out of hearing range. It was late enough that his friends had retreated to their respective common rooms, so Harry quickly told Hermione the story while simultaneously filling Draco in via the charmed parchment. Neither of them had any theories as to what had upset their professor so much, but his pleading tones and desperate words were worrisome.

The following week, Wood had some unpleasant news for his team.

"Snape's refereeing the match," he told them after practice on Tuesday. They all gaped at him in shock.

"Sorry, mate, I must've heard you wrong," Fred Weasley said, making an exaggerated motion of cleaning out his ears, "I thought you said _Snape_ was going to ref for a second there."

"I did," Wood replied.

"Why?" Katie Bell asked. "He's never shown an interest in it before."

"And he hates us," Alicia Spinnet added with a frown. "The Head of Slytherin House calling a Gryffindor game? How is that fair?"

"I don't really know why," Wood admitted, running a hand over his face, "but that's what's going down. Just…don't give him any excuses to give stupid penalties, alright?"

The morning of the match was cold and windy – Harry's friends were barely recognizable under their many heavy layers of outerwear, and Hermione had her little flame jar stored in her pocket to keep them warm in the open-air stadium. Harry wore a thick jumper under his scarlet Quidditch robes, and his teammates attired themselves similarly, all of them hoping the extra layers would be enough. In spite of the odd circumstances surrounding the match, Wood looked excited.

"Alright, everyone," he said, "this is it. We've got more talent than our opponent and we've been training harder-"

"You can say that again," George muttered under his breath. Wood heard him, however.

"Shut up, George," he snapped. "We're a damn good team, and we've got what it takes to go far in this tournament if we want to. We've got to prove that we're better than our rotten luck. So get out there, do what you do, and let's show them that Gryffindor's a force to be reckoned with. And remember – no excuses for Snape, no matter how much you might want to hex him." The team grumbled good-naturedly at this last statement but assured their captain they'd behave, and after a quick chant of 'Let's go Lions!' they left the locker room.

Cheers rocked the stadium as the students showed their support for their favorite teams. A number of banners sporting creative slogans floated above their heads, and Harry grinned when he caught sight of Hermione, Draco, and the rest of his friends waving from their place in the stands. Their noses were pink and they were huddled together for warmth, but they looked as excited as he felt.

"Hello and welcome to today's match!" Lee Jordan's magically magnified voice rang throughout the stadium. "It's Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff today, folks, and the big news of the day is the debut of Harry Potter as Gryffindor's new Seeker – I don't know about you, but I'm excited to see what he can do. So without further ado, let's get this game started!" The crowd roared, the captains shook hands, and a blast from Snape's whistle sent the players skyward.

"And it's Katie Bell of Gryffindor with the Quaffle…"

This match was very different from the one against Slytherin – the Snakes and Lions had been very evenly matched for the majority of their contest, but in this case, Gryffindor was clearly the superior team. Snape, who looked very odd indeed on a broom, awarded Hufflepuff with several silly penalties in spite of the Gryffindors' attempts to keep their hands clean, but the score rose in Gryffindor's favor very quickly. Harry spent most of the match circling high above the pitch, where he'd be able to keep an eye out for the Snitch while staying out of the way. He celebrated accordingly whenever his teammates scored and dodged a stray Bludger or two, but otherwise, his part of the sky was quiet. Harry still had no idea why Snape had insisted on calling this match, and some of the penalties he called against Gryffindor were a little ridiculous, but at least the Potions master hadn't been overly hostile yet.

In what seemed like no time at all, Harry finally found what he was looking for – the Snitch was hovering some fifteen feet above the ground near the Hufflepuff goalposts. He bent forward on his broom and kicked off, rocketing almost straight down, and was so preoccupied with his goal that he didn't see Katie flying almost right at him.

"Harry, look out!" she shrieked, and Harry ducked and swerved just in time to avoid a major collision. Once Katie was out of the way, Harry looked around frantically, still streaking rapidly towards the ground. Where had the Snitch gone?

Just then, Harry felt something fly into his open mouth and nearly choked – oh, Godric, was he going to end up like Kensington, just another nearly-dead Gryffindor Seeker? He leveled his broom seconds before he would've smashed into the pitch and managed to tumble lightly onto the grass, where he promptly coughed violently and spat out…_the Snitch._

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, holding it up high for all to see. The stands exploded once they figured out what was going on – many of the Slytherins were insisting that attempting to _eat_ the Snitch hardly counted as _catching _it, but their protests were drowned out by the raucous cheers of the Gryffindors, who'd had precious few wins in recent years and were celebrating accordingly. Wood shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain once more before clapping Harry hard on the shoulder, beaming as he did so, and the rest of the Gryffindor team soon joined them in a sort of celebratory dance on the field. Snape looked sour as he blew the final whistle, and Lee Jordan was gleefully repeating Gryffindor's victory for all to hear.

"Party in the common room!" the Weasley twins shouted, and the Gryffindors hastily retreated to their tower for a long-awaited night of fun.

It was late at night when the last of the Gryffindors finally went to bed and Harry was able to settle down at one of the common room tables with a roll of parchment and his quill. It was high time he addressed something none of them had yet asked.

_Dear Mum and Padfoot,_

_I played my first Quidditch match today – we won! Hufflepuff wasn't nearly as good as Slytherin, and I basically swallowed the Snitch instead of actually catching it, but it still felt pretty good. The Nimbus flies like a dream, I love it._

_Something weird happened though – Professor Snape refereed the match instead of Madam Hooch. Snape is the Potions master and doesn't like me very much. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement – he always looks at me like he'd like nothing more than to dock a few hundred points from Gryffindor and give me detention for the rest of my life, and I don't understand why. I get the feeling he knows something that I don't – if it's something you know too and wouldn't mind sharing, it'd be nice to know why he seems to hate me so much. He also gives Draco really weird looks occasionally – he's not outright hostile since Draco's in Slytherin, but it's still kind of creepy, and we think that maybe he somehow knows who Draco really is._

_Anyway, it's really late and I'm exhausted, so I'll end this here – the after-match party just ended but I had to get this out while I was thinking about it. Hope all's well at home – we all send our love._

_Harry_

Satisfied with his letter, Harry rolled it up and sealed it before heading upstairs to bed. He'd send the note off with Hedwig first thing in the morning, and maybe they'd finally get some answers.


	17. Ghosts of the Past

**A/N: Thanks to RayningRoses, steltek, katiemcarnabuci, StarGem16, Mystery-Lizzy, Arden Ranger, nette91, jetsamsrule31, & VSSI for the follows/favorites, & thanks to Kermit304 & KodeV for the reviews!**

**Here's chapter 17 - 2 chapters in 2 days; thank you, lack of to-do list, haha. JKR owns all things Potter, as usual. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

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After Harry sent his letter, a week passed with no word. At first, he thought that perhaps something had happened - they hadn't received his letter, they hadn't had time to reply, they hadn't _wanted_ to reply, Hedwig had gotten hurt (he really didn't want to entertain that last option), but his worries dissipated when Hedwig finally returned with not one, but two letters clutched in her beak. It seemed that his mum and Sirius had both decided to respond. As soon as he got the chance, Harry curled up in his four-poster and slit open the first envelope, which bore Sirius' large print:

_Dear Harry,_

_Ah, good old Snape. I'd forgotten he was at Hogwarts._

_I'll start with the easier part of your letter. Snape probably does know who Draco is - Draco's father was a fifth-year prefect the year Snape started school, and as fellow Slytherins, they developed a sort of camaraderie. They ran in a lot of the same circles and most likely kept in touch after Hogwarts - I wouldn't be surprised if Snape actually met Draco when he was still living at Malfoy Manor. Even if he hadn't, the Malfoy features are pretty distinct, and Snape knew both Lucius and Narcissa well enough that he'd recognize their son when he saw him._

_As for your other question, Snape was in the same year as your mum and us Marauders. The same year, but definitely not the same circles - Snape was an awkward, greasy git who was up to his ears in the Dark Arts by the time he was twelve, and there was no love lost between us and him. He was on the receiving end of most of our better pranks - don't go feeling sorry for him; he was too nosy - and perceptive - for his own good, and he gave as good as he got. Anyway, he hated Prongs probably the most of any of us. I reckon Snape was jealous that Prongs had everything he didn't - popularity, a carefree attitude, and heaps of Quidditch talent. Given that you're pretty much the spitting image of your dad - except for your mum's eyes, of course - I'm not surprised he hates you; you're a living reminder that the person he hated the most actually reproduced._

_I'll leave it at that for now. If Snape gives you any excessive grief, just let me know and I'll take care of it._

_Take care,_

_Padfoot_

The second envelope, and the letter within, featured Lily's flowing script:

_Dear Harry,_

_Quite honestly, I'd forgotten that Severus was teaching at Hogwarts - I'm really sorry for any trouble he's given you, as it's partially my fault. Please know that this is a rather difficult subject for me to discuss, but as much as I want to, I can't bring myself to lie about it any longer. I have a feeling that Sirius' version of things will be rather biased, as he and Severus absolutely loathed each other in school, and I think that you need to know the whole story._

_As I'm sure Sirius did as well, I'll clear up the issue of Draco first. Lucius Malfoy was a prefect the year we all started school, and he took Severus under his wing as a sort of protégé. They were close for the three years they were both at Hogwarts and kept in touch long after that, as far as I know. In any case, Severus has almost certainly met Draco before, as a young child - he could very well even be Draco's godfather, but I'm not positive about that._

_This is where things get complicated, so please bear with me. Severus and I were childhood friends - we lived somewhat close to each other and met at a Muggle park at least a year before we went to Hogwarts, and by the time we started school, we were as close as you are with Draco and Hermione. Our Sorting was really hard for us - as you know, I went to Gryffindor and Severus to Slytherin, and the rivalry between the two houses was just as fierce then as it is now. For a Slytherin to be friends with a Gryffindor, especially a Muggle-born Gryffindor, was almost absurd, but we decided that our friendship was more important than what everyone else thought. For close to five years, we managed to stick together. It definitely wasn't easy - none of my other friends could understand why I willingly hung out with a Slytherin, and a lot of his friends did things I didn't approve of - they cursed people for fun, studied the Dark Arts, and most of them went on to become Death Eaters after school._

_I'll never forget the day everything fell apart - it was near the end of fifth year, and we'd just sat one of our last O.W.L.s. Most of us were in desperate need of fresh air and as such were hanging out outside - under trees, on the lawn, by the lake. Fantastic weather. James and Sirius decided it'd be fun to 'show off' their magic skills by hexing Severus - this was something they did often, but hardly ever when I was around. It was too much, and I finally found the nerve to tell them to knock it off. Severus, however, was so angry and embarrassed that he spat at me to back off, telling me that he didn't want any help from a 'filthy little Mudblood'. As you already know, it's a highly offensive term only used by those who believe Muggle-borns to be beneath them, and I took the insult to heart. He apologized profusely, but I wasn't hearing it, and I told him that night that he'd passed the point of no return. I was done making excuses, and our friendship was over._

_I was adamant that day that I'd done the right thing, but now, all these years later, I can't help but wonder if I made a terrible mistake. You have to understand that the Marauders and I were absolutely not friends in school - your father and Sirius had egos the size of England, and I didn't like their tendency to hex people 'for fun'. Remus was nice enough, but he was always too close with Sirius and James to feel comfortable telling them to stop, and Peter just worshipped the ground the other three walked on. It wasn't until they'd grown up a bit in seventh year that I started to warm up to them - your father and I were Head Boy and Girl, so we had to work together constantly, and eventually we all became close._

_I certainly don't regret forming those friendships, nor do I regret the life I built for myself afterwards, but I do regret my decisions after that fight, and I consistently wonder if it's too late to repair the bridges I've burned with someone who was once my closest friend. I'm sure he's angry with me as well - I wouldn't blame him if he viewed my marriage as the ultimate act of betrayal, given his tumultuous relationship with James, and the fact that you look so much like him is probably the salt in the wound. I'm truly sorry that you have to bear the brunt of the aftermath, as it's absolutely not your fault, and I will do what I can to rectify the situation. It's not going to be easy, but I've let this go for far too long - it's a shame it took a letter from my own son to make me see that, but I'm going to try. Thank you, sweetheart, for helping me see what I need to do, and I hope you can forgive me for my mistakes. Say hello to Draco and Hermione for me._

_All my love,_

_Mum_

Harry read each letter twice more - it was a lot to take in, and then he had to sort through the biases to find the truth in the words. As much as its negative view of the Marauders made him squirm, Harry concluded that his mother's letter was the more truthful of the two, as it seemed to give a much more thorough and honest account of things. Sirius' letter wasn't necessarily _bad_, per se, but it was very much one-sided against Snape, while Lily's gave both sides of the story as much as it could and admitted wrongdoing on all accounts.

One line in particular got him thinking: _'by the time we started school, we were as close as you are with Draco and Hermione.' _It wasn't hard to see how eerily similar the two situations were - Draco was a Slytherin, and Harry and Hermione were Gryffindors, with Hermione also being Muggle-born, and yet the trio were still the best of friends. Harry even acknowledged that the other two were on the fast track to 'more-than-friends' status one day, but he tried not to focus on that for the moment - for one thing, they were only first-years, and for another, the possibility of that also being a parallel to his mother and Snape's story was just too weird.

Then Harry concentrated on the 'Mudblood' incident - unlike the time Nott had used the word towards Hermione, his mum had obviously known what the word meant, and he could understand her hurt. Someone she'd considered a close friend had used the ultimate insult, and it had cut deep. However, from what little he knew of the confrontation, Snape had already been bitterly humiliated in front of a fairly large group of people, and Harry couldn't imagine that Snape would've wanted to hurt his pride even more by accepting help, even if it was from his best friend. The insult was probably a rash lashing-out more than anything else, and strangely enough, Harry felt that he somehow understood Snape's perspective, even though he'd never before been in a similar situation.

Harry tried to imagine what would happen if Draco were to call Hermione a Mudblood, but it was incredibly difficult. For one thing, they were too close for Harry to fathom such a scenario ever happening, and for another, the mere thought of Draco doing something so hateful was enough to give Harry a stomachache. Maybe he did understand, then - Snape and Lily had been the closest of friends, but the pain of his insult had been too much for his mum to take, and it had torn them apart. Harry didn't think he could bear the thought of writing someone he held so close out of his life forever, and as much as he disliked his Potions professor, he agreed with his mother's decision to attempt to make amends.

Harry was utterly exhausted by the time he finished recounting the tale to the others later that day - first he had to tell them about the original letter he'd sent, and then he'd explained his theories while everyone read the two responses.

"It's so sad," Hermione murmured, having read the letters a second time before passing them back to Harry, "it's no wonder Snape's the way he is."

_"Sad?" _Ron replied, looking horrorstruck, "I think _creepy_ is the word you want - _Snape_ has a thing for Harry's mum!"

"You don't know that that's true," Hermione snapped, "but they were the best of friends - and even if it was something more, it's still a terrible situation. I feel bad for him."

"I kind of do too," Harry admitted, "and I can understand why he looks at me the way he does. I mean, he absolutely hated my dad, and look at me – I'm my dad's clone with my mum's eyes, a.k.a. incontestable proof of who my mum chose. It's like the ultimate slap in the face, if you think about it."

"So Snape was friends with my parents, and he may or may not be my godfather," Draco mused. "Interesting. I wonder if I'll ever know - my mother never mentioned it in her letter, and it's not exactly something I can just bring up."

"I hope he and your mum make up just so he can stop being so horrible to us in Potions," Neville chimed in with a slight shudder. It was a well-known fact that Snape scared Neville, who was abysmal at Potions and regularly fell apart in class from sheer nerves.

"What I don't like are the parallels," Draco said, "the ways Harry pointed out how similar their story is to ours. How do we know this isn't history repeating itself?"

"It's not," Hermione said quietly, brushing her fingers against his reassuringly. "I know it's not. You would never do something like that."

"That's what Lily thought about Snape, and we all know how well that went," Draco countered, but his worried expression softened slightly at Hermione's touch.

"Snape obviously felt bad about it afterwards," Harry noted. "It sounded like he said it in a fit of rage, and he tried to apologize for what he'd done. It was my mum who wasn't having any of it."

"So basically, if Draco's ever stupid enough to say something like that to Hermione, we just have to hope Hermione's not as vindictive as your mum," Ron finished.

"Well, let's just hope I'm never that stupid, then," Draco said. "Lotte can hold a grudge like nobody's business."

"Hey!" Hermione protested, swatting his arm and scowling.

"Oh, come on - remember that time when we were eight?"

Much to the boys' amusement and Hermione's dismay, the conversation took a lengthy tangent after that.


	18. The Ups and Downs of Springtime

**A/N: By request of a reviewer, my A/N's will appear at the end of the chapter from now on, but I wanted to address something in that review that might've left some people confused. In this fic, Quirrell isn't being possessed by Voldemort - yes, Harry did witness him having a breakdown, but the situation's a tad different. You'll find out (part of) what's going on there in a few chapters.**

**Also, I know my twisting of canon hasn't been very imaginative for first year - I promise I do have several really big divergences from canon planned, and I'm really excited to get to them, but unfortunately they're not coming until later. Hopefully I can keep things interesting until then!**

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The rest of the winter term passed without incident, save for a memorable day when Peeves, the school's resident poltergeist, decided to upend several shelves' worth of vials in one of the Potions classrooms. The resulting explosion was impressive, to say the least, and left half the dungeons filled with colorful clouds that refused to disappear for almost two weeks. Draco actually slept in the Room of Requirement for three days when one of the clouds managed to get into the Slytherin common room, where it proceeded to rain profusely for hours on end. Nobody could seem to stop the downpour, and the rest of the school thought it was rather amusing when the Slytherin students had little choice but to show up to their lessons soaking wet.

The last big event of the term was the final Quidditch game of the season, which would take place right before the Easter holidays. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were participating in the match, but depending on the outcome, the overall winner of the tournament could be neither of them.

"It all depends," Wood reminded them for the hundredth time after practice one day in late March. "If Ravenclaw wins, they win the tournament – they've already beaten both Slytherin and Hufflepuff, so a win in this game would leave them undefeated. But if we win...well, you know what happens then. Things get complicated. Either way, we've got to be on our game."

Harry tuned out the rest of Wood's spiel as he laced up his trainers. Wood had already reminded them so many times that Harry could recite the possible scenarios in his sleep. If Gryffindor won the match, it would leave themselves, the Ravenclaws, and the Slytherins with identical 2-1 records for the season, and the winner of the Quidditch Cup would be decided by point differential. However, the Eagles had already proven themselves a formidable foe, trouncing Hufflepuff back in December and then posting a convincing victory over what everyone knew to be an excellent Slytherin squad – beating them wasn't going to be easy.

As usual, the whole school turned up to watch the match, and as Hufflepuff was the only house not invested in the game's outcome, the atmosphere in the stands was thick with tension. Draco, Hermione, and their friends narrowly avoided a scuffle involving several older students from the participating houses, which ended with ten people in the hospital wing and a round of docked points and detentions from an irate Professor McGonagall.

"So what brings you to this part of the stands, then?" Hermione asked as they took their seats. Instead of sitting with their housemates, Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis had decided to join Draco and the Gryffindors.

"Come on, Granger, you're smart," Blaise replied with a slight smirk. "If your lot wins, our house has a chance to take the Cup. Why wouldn't I sit over here?"

"Just never thought I'd see the day a Slytherin cheered for Gryffindor," Hermione teased.

"Only for the Cup, Granger, only for the Cup." The light banter continued until the two teams took the field amidst roars of applause. On Madam Hooch's whistle, the game began.

The match was fast, furious, and brutal. Lee Jordan could barely keep up the commentary as the Quaffle zipped from player to player, and the Bludgers rocketed dangerously around the pitch, aided by the determination of the four Beaters. Hermione chewed her lower lip nervously as she watched – the Gryffindors most definitely had their work cut out for them.

A number of exceptional goals from both teams gave the spectators plenty to celebrate, but the Snitch remained hidden, and Harry spent the better part of an hour circling high above the field while the rest of his team battled it out below. A sudden sickening _crack_, followed by several screams, met his ears, and he turned just in time to see Wood tumble from his broomstick. Madam Hooch quickly called timeout, and Harry raced to join his teammates on the ground.

"What happened?" he demanded, not having seen the accident.

"Bludger to the head," Angelina replied, looking grim. "He's out cold, and even with magical healing he'll still have one heck of a concussion. He's out of the game."

"But…what are we supposed to do? We don't…"

"Have a backup?" she finished. "I know. Either one of us Chasers will have to do it, or we'll have to go without a Keeper. Either way, it's not going to be pretty." The team stood in silence for a moment while Professor Sprout levitated away their unconscious Keeper on a stretcher.

"Alright, here's what we'll do," Angelina said with a sigh. "There's no way we're going to win this match now, not without a miracle, but if we're going down, we're going down fighting. Harry, do you think you can take care of that?" Harry immediately understood what she was saying – she wanted him to get the Snitch, preferably quickly. They would most likely lose, but they'd lose on their terms.

"Yeah, I can," he said, nodding determinedly.

"Right, then," Angelina said. "I think that's what Wood would've wanted us to do – fight till the end. Let's get it done, team."

The last half hour of the match was awful for the Gryffindors. Angelina was their best option as a replacement Keeper and strapped on the additional padding, but the loss of a Chaser made attack formations of any kind almost impossible to execute. The score rose almost impossibly quickly in Ravenclaw's favor, and Harry fought to keep from panicking as he searched frantically for the Snitch. They had to end this on their terms, they just _had_ to…

Finally, he spotted his target and shot off across the field. Ravenclaw's one weakness was their narrow-minded Seeker, so it was easy for Harry to reach the Snitch unopposed and capture the little golden ball in his fist.

The stands exploded as he raced towards the ground, holding the Snitch high above his head. The Ravenclaws were celebrating their victory – Harry's capture of the Snitch meant they'd only won by forty points, but a win was a win – and the Gryffindors were just relieved that the match was over. Harry, however, saw none of this, nor did he see Professor Dumbledore present the Quidditch Cup to the ecstatic Ravenclaw team – instead, he collapsed with the rest of the Gryffindor team in the locker room, all of them utterly exhausted.

"You don't have to explain it to us," Hermione said gently when Harry attempted to validate his actions later that night. "It made sense to end it your way, and I think that's what Wood would've done."

"Cheer up, mate," Ron said, glancing up from the chess game he and Draco were hunched over, "it's almost the holidays. You're all still coming, yeah?" Ron's mother, who'd chatted with Lily and Sirius at a recent Order meeting, had insisted on inviting them all over for Easter dinner.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we are," Harry answered, his mood lightening a little.

"Good. It'll be a madhouse, but it'll be fun."

Ron was certainly right with his use of the word 'madhouse' – with the addition of Harry, Draco, Lily, Sirius, and the three Grangers, there were fourteen people at the Burrow on Easter Sunday. The Burrow was the oddest house Harry had seen – each additional story looked as if it had been stacked on as an afterthought, and there was no way the structure wasn't supported by magic. Old cauldrons and countless shoes, many without mates, littered the front porch, and chickens and garden gnomes raced throughout the front yard. People were constantly running into each other on the narrow staircase or in the tiny kitchen, and Fred and George caused three small explosions within the first hour of their arrival. It was mass chaos, and Harry absolutely loved it.

"Could you _please_ keep it down? I'm _trying_ to study!" an irate voice called from one of the many landings as the trio followed Ron upstairs to his room.

"Oh, shut it, Perce," a female voice snapped. "Did you really think you were going to get any studying done with this lot here?"

"Don't get saucy with me, Ginevra," Percy scolded. "I don't think Mother would appreciate your tone." With a huff, he slammed his bedroom door, and they could all hear the lock click.

"Ridiculous," the girl muttered. She glanced up the stairs at the others, her ginger ponytail making it clear to them that she could only be Ron's sister. "Dunno how much of that you heard, but the name's Ginny – pleasure to meet you." She grinned and gave a cheerful wave.

"Likewise," Harry said, and he, Draco, and Hermione introduced themselves. Their voices carried through the stairwell, and Percy wrenched his door open again.

"For the last time, will you all please _leave?"_ he demanded, his nostrils flaring slightly as he glared at them.

"Not our problem you're being antisocial," Ron muttered.

"I heard that, Ronald!"

"Anyone up for a game of Quidditch?" Ginny suggested suddenly. "Or will that be too 'disruptive to your environment,' Percy?"

"I don't care," Percy sniffed. "Just leave me alone." His door shut once more, and Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's rudeness.

"Let's go, then, shall we?"

"Why's Percy so…tense?" Hermione asked as they extracted a number of old brooms from the Weasleys' shed.

"He's studying for his O.W.L.s," Ron replied. "They're in June, you know. Wants to work for the Ministry, so he needs good marks so he can get into the suggested N.E.W.T. classes. But he's done nothing _but_ study the entire break – I don't think he's left his room save for meals – and he's just been getting snippier as it goes by. Frankly, I'll be glad when we get back to Hogwarts and I won't have to see him as much."

The rest of the afternoon proved to be much more enjoyable than their brief encounter with Percy, as they rounded up Fred and George for some pick-up Quidditch. The teams were uneven and one of the brooms had a tendency to nosedive at unexpected moments, but it was still fun, and they were pleasantly tired when they settled around the table for Easter dinner. Harry, Hermione, and Draco had heard Ron talk of his mother's cooking, but the stories couldn't hold a candle to the real thing – the table groaned under the weight of a dozen different dishes, each one as delicious as the last, and they found themselves eating more than they ever thought they could hold as they chatted animatedly. Fred and George whispered conspiratorially between themselves, deliberating how best to steal Percy's prefect badge, and Ginny turned out to be a lot of fun, adding her own two Knuts into the conversation and making everyone laugh. Mrs. Weasley insisted they all eat third helpings of everything, and Mr. Weasley tried to hold back his excitement as he conversed with the Grangers – the Weasley patriarch worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office at the Ministry and was fascinated with everything related to their world. The wild, rambunctious meal was the polar opposite of the one Harry and Draco had experienced at Christmas, and both boys knew it was no contest as to which one they preferred.

The rest of the holidays were spent finishing the last of their homework, which the teachers had piled on in preparation for their final exams, and soon it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Neville, Blaise, and Tracey joined Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ron in a compartment on the train, and they passed most of the journey exchanging stories about their breaks. When the sweets trolley came by, Harry bought a large pile of chocolate frogs and handed them around.

"Thanks, mate!" Ron said enthusiastically, tearing off the wrapper of his frog and biting into the chocolate.

"Anybody know who Nicolas Flamel is?" Neville asked.

"Who?" Ron said, his mouth still full of chocolate.

"Ron, that's disgusting," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose at Ron's lack of manners. "Nicolas Flamel? He's an alchemist, why do you ask?"

"Well, yeah, it says that here," Neville said, pointing to the chocolate frog card he held in his hand. On the card was the familiar visage of their headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. "It says he works on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. I guess my real question is, what is alchemy?"

"It's an advanced branch of magic, mostly focused on turning base metals into gold, the creation of the elixir of-" Hermione suddenly stopped, her eyes wide.

"What is it, Maya?" Harry asked, not liking the look on her face.

"Nothing," she said hurriedly. "I just…thought I remembered something, that's all. I need to go to the library when we get back."

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**A/N: As promised, my thanks - to T. H. Enesley, GPFM, Rude's Mom, xoRetributionox, urmamaroxs, raveygirl17, long live marshmallows, Smile Sweetly. Laugh Loudly, Montyyx, MaeSilverpaws1, Dha Rason, silent song of shadows, vsousa, mmweav, 474Shuli, & RUKICHI KUN for the follows/faves, & to mudbloodpotter05, Kermit 304, KodeV, long live marshmallows, & Guest for the reviews!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Hope you enjoyed the chapter - let me know what you thought! :)**


	19. In Which a Unicorn is the Catalyst

Harry and Draco didn't buy Hermione's lie one bit, and they practically dragged her all the way to the Room of Requirement the instant they got back to Hogwarts, Neville and Ron hurrying along in their wake.

"Alright, spill," Harry said as soon as they were in the room. Draco stood blocking the door, the look on his face making it quite clear that Hermione wasn't going anywhere until she told them what was going on. Hermione rolled her eyes, looking more than a little exasperated.

"I need to go to the library," she said, repeating her excuse from the train.

"Lotte, you know something," Draco said, narrowing his eyes accusingly, "I can tell. I get why you didn't want to tell us on the train, but why won't you tell us now?"

"Why _wouldn't_ you tell us on the train, anyway?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Because Blaise and Tracey were there, obviously," Draco replied, rolling his eyes at Ron's lack of observation. "Whatever Lotte knows, it's something important, and while I get on well enough with Blaise and Tracey, you lot don't know them all that well, and they're not really in our circle yet. Is that right?" he asked, returning his gaze to Hermione. She nodded.

"Well…can't you tell us now?" Ron asked almost meekly, as if attempting to make up for his previous question. Hermione took a deep breath.

"I…can't tell you just yet," she said slowly. "I think I might've figured something out, but I need to double check something first – I wasn't lying when I said I had to go to the library." Seeing the still skeptical looks on their faces, she sighed. "I know exactly what book I'm looking for – if you let me go now, I can be back here with it in fifteen minutes, and I promise you I'll tell you everything then." After Harry and Draco seemed to have an entire conversation just through exchanged looks, the latter finally stepped away from the door to let Hermione through. The four boys settled onto the armchairs and sofa to wait, and true to her word, Hermione returned shortly, carrying an enormous book that looked almost as old as Hogwarts. She deposited the tome on the coffee table with a loud _thunk_ and began leafing through the pages, muttering to herself.

"Aha! Here it is," she said, her index finger resting about halfway down the page. She brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her face and began to read:

_"Along with the transformation of base metals into gold, alchemists have long focused on the creation of the philosopher's stone, a seemingly ordinary object full of extraordinary power. Exceedingly complicated and understood by few, the true philosopher's stone will produce the elixir of life, a substance that will make the drinker immortal. The only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, b. 1327, a prominent leader in the alchemy field."_

"Hang on…did you say _1327?"_ Ron asked, looking shocked. Hermione nodded and Ron looked at the passage himself, eyes widening when he saw she had indeed read it correctly.

"That would make him…" Draco paused to do some quick mental math. "665?" Neville whistled.

"I reckon it's safe to say this elixir stuff works, then," he said. "665, wow…but while that's a nifty little bit of information, I still don't get why you couldn't say that on the train, Hermione."

"Neville, have you still got that chocolate frog card?" she asked. He looked slightly puzzled at the seemingly odd question but nodded, extracting the little card from his pocket.

"This isn't Flamel's card – it's Dumbledore's," Hermione reminded them, "and it says Dumbledore does alchemical work with Flamel. It might be a long shot, but what if…"

"…the dog's guarding the philosopher's stone?" Harry finished. Hermione beamed at how quickly her friend had caught on.

"Well, why not? Flamel's one of the most prominent, if not _the_ most prominent name in the entire field," she said. "Even people like Dumbledore don't just find themselves working with someone like Flamel – there's got to be a connection somehow. Flamel might've admired Dumbledore's work with dragon's blood or one of his Transfiguration papers, or they could just be longtime family friends, but either way, Dumbledore's got some sort of in with Flamel, and they're close enough that they work together – alchemy's such a top-secret field, what with everyone competing to be first to figure out the secret to immortality, that the fact that someone so high up willingly has a partner is a big deal."

"Do you all remember the Gringotts break-in from last summer?" Harry asked. "Nothing was actually taken, but the invaded vault was one of the high-security ones, the type that only a Gringotts goblin can get into without something horrible happening – ordinary gold doesn't need to be stored in a vault like that. What if that vault was Flamel's, and the object previously stored there was the philosopher's stone? Something that important, it'd make sense for Flamel to entrust it to his partner if he was worried about its safety."

"Why would he be worried about it, though?" Draco asked. "Gringotts is one of the safest places in the Wizarding world, isn't it?"

"Not as safe as Hogwarts," Hermione pointed out. "Harry's mum always says that Hogwarts is number one. It could be that they weren't worried about anything in particular and just moved the stone as a precaution."

"If it really is the stone," Ron reminded her.

"On the one hand, it all seems like a great big coincidence," Neville said, "but on the other, there's too much of a coincidence for it _not_ to be a coincidence…did that make any sense?" he muttered, flushing scarlet.

"Actually, it did," Draco said. "As crazy as it sounds, I'm starting to think that you're right – the philosopher's stone is here at Hogwarts."

"But what do we do about it?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…we know it's there," Harry said. "And have we forgotten about my encounter with Quirrell?"

"No, we haven't…but there's no proof that he wasn't just having a bad day or something," Hermione told them, "nor is there proof that his distress is connected to the trapdoor. I don't think we need to do anything – yet. But if something comes up that proves the stone's in danger, we should probably tell Dumbledore."

April crept into May, the warm weather taunting the students as they spent their free time revising for upcoming exams instead of enjoying the sunshine. The friends kept a sharp lookout, but nothing suggested any sort of trouble, and thoughts of the stone fell by the wayside as finals drew ever closer. The Room of Requirement was filled with the sounds of quills scratching on parchment and textbook pages ruffling as they struggled to remember everything they'd learned, and they practiced spells and recited potions ingredients long into the night. Their classmates, and indeed the rest of the school, were doing the same, the students looking slightly haggard and sleep deprived as they took up residence in the library and buried their heads in their books. The fifth- and seventh-years were especially tense, as O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were nearly upon them, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were glad to have the Room of Requirement as an excuse to get away from an increasingly irritable Percy, who tended to snap if anyone so much as looked at him the wrong way in the common room.

Finally, exam week arrived. The first-years filed nervously into their classrooms, where special anti-cheating quills waited next to their test papers, and attempted to achieve second-year status. Snape made everyone anxious, prowling the aisles of the Potions classroom and peering into cauldrons while the students mixed their ingredients, and History of Magic meant a slew of long-ago dates and half a dozen goblin wars that nobody could keep straight. One by one, the exams concluded, and finally, the last question had been answered, the last spell cast, and the last potion corked. Their results would be posted the last day of term, and the students now had almost a week of blissful freedom before summer officially started.

One morning during the final week of term, Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Neville were lounging by the lake when Ron came sprinting across the lawn, a worried expression marring his features.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Hermione hastily asked.

"It's happening," he said, his eyes wide. When the others merely looked confused, he elaborated, "The stone – if what I just heard doesn't put it in danger, nothing will."

"What happened?" Harry asked almost sharply, indicating that the redhead should sit.

"I heard Fred and George talking about it at breakfast just now," Ron said. "One of the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest was almost killed last night."

"Oh, the poor thing!" Hermione whispered, her eyes watering slightly. Unicorns were so innocent…

"Oh, no," Draco breathed, understanding what Ron was getting at, "this is bad – _really_ bad."

Harry, Hermione, and Neville glanced at each other – if Draco was agreeing with Ron, something was definitely wrong.

"Do you remember what our Potions book says about unicorns?" Draco asked urgently. "It doesn't say much about the animals themselves – that'd be in a Care of Magical Creatures text – but it says quite a bit about their usefulness in potion making."

"Well, sure," Hermione agreed. "We've used the tail hairs a lot, and Snape's always telling us to be super careful with the powdered horn because it's so expensive."

"But what does it say about unicorn blood?" Draco pressed. Hermione gasped.

"The…blood? Almost no potion uses it, because it's such a terrible thing to kill one…_oh."_

"Yeah – _oh_ is right," Draco said, his expression grim.

"Er…mind filling us in?" Neville asked, looking slightly embarrassed. "Not all of us are, um, good at Potions."

"Killing a unicorn is a heinous thing to do," Hermione said, "because they're such innocent, pure creatures – it's almost akin to killing a child. You'll almost never find unicorn blood in potions because of that very fact, and using – or drinking – the blood is enough to curse you for life."

"What kind of potion could possibly be worth cursing yourself over?" Harry asked.

"A longevity potion," Draco replied. "Not an immortality one, mind – there's no such thing; only the elixir of life can do that – but longevity potions are still pretty powerful."

"Was the unicorn actually killed, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"No," Ron answered, "which is a good thing, right? I mean, you can't get blood for potions from a creature until it's dead, but George said Hagrid found this one stumbling around the forest, badly hurt but still very much alive. He put it out of its misery, obviously, but I don't think the wound alone would have done it."

"No, it wouldn't," Hermione said, shivering a little at the mental image of the severely injured creature. "You're right – the unicorn would've had to have been dead before anyone could've gotten enough blood from it. But this leaves us with a very big problem."

"Which is?"

"Ron, the attack on the unicorn failed. Unicorn blood is used in a Dark longevity potion. If the attacker's going for longevity, would it be so far-fetched to think that he might know about the stone and go for that next?"

"Oh…yeah, that's bad."

"We need to go to Dumbledore," Harry cut in, "now. There are only a few days left of term – if something's going to happen, how do we know it won't happen tonight?" Without another word, the group hastily brushed themselves off and raced into the castle. It was only after they'd reached the marble staircase that they realized they had no idea where Dumbledore lived. Just as they were about to retreat, Professor McGonagall came around the corner.

"Professor!" Harry called. "We need your help!"

"What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" she asked, surveying them over the rim of her spectacles.

"We need to speak to Professor Dumbledore, immediately," Harry said. "Can you tell us how to get to his office?"

"I'm afraid the headmaster isn't here," Professor McGonagall replied.

"He…isn't here?" Harry repeated. "But this is important!"

"I'm sure whatever it is can wait until tomorrow, can it not?" Taking Harry's stunned silence for acquiescence, Professor McGonagall turned to leave.

"It's about the philosopher's stone!" Harry blurted out in desperation. Professor McGonagall stared at him in shock.

"How did you know…" she whispered.

"Never mind that for now, Professor, please," Hermione implored. "The stone is in danger."

"Miss Granger, I can assure you that the stone is perfectly safe."

"But-"

"No buts, Mr. Weasley-"

"Someone's going to steal it, Professor-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Black-"

"Professor, you've got to listen-"

"That's enough!" Professor McGonagall finally snapped. She took a moment to regain her composure, then said, "I don't know how you found out about the stone, but rest assured that it is indeed in the safest of places. It's not going anywhere. Now, don't let me hear you mention it again – off you go." The children realized they weren't going to get any more help from the strict witch and headed back outside in defeat.

"Now what?" Neville asked glumly as they sank to the grass once more.

"It's tonight," Harry said.

"What?"

"It's tonight," Harry repeated. "Dumbledore's gone until tomorrow. McGonagall was wrong – the stone isn't safe, not tonight. Whoever's going after it is going to do so tonight – which means I'm going after him."

"Are you mad?" Ron asked, just as Hermione said, "I'm going with you."

"No, I'm not, and thank you," Harry said. "Listen, we're the only ones who know the stone's here – McGonagall basically confirmed it just now that Hermione was right all along – and if McGonagall doesn't believe us, none of the other teachers will either. Hogwarts' biggest protector is out of the way until tomorrow, which gives the thief plenty of time to steal the stone and be far away before anyone realizes it's missing. We're the only ones who can stop it from happening."

"I'm with you, Harry," Hermione repeated. "There's bound to be all sorts of enchantments protecting the stone; you'll need help."

"I'm coming too," Draco said almost immediately. "You two aren't going off on any adventures without me."

"I'll come…if you want me to, that is," Neville said.

"Of course – why wouldn't we?" Harry asked.

"Well…it's just that I'm not all that good at magic," Neville muttered quietly, his face red with embarrassment.

"Neville Longbottom, don't you ever let me hear you say that again," Hermione scolded. "You're brilliant at Herbology and rather good with Charms – just because Potions isn't your thing does _not_ make you bad at magic." Neville said nothing but smiled gratefully at her.

"Ron, you in?" Harry asked.

"I – well, yeah. Not letting you four go trotting off on your own, am I?" Ron replied.

"Alright – it's settled, then," Harry said. "Meet in the Room of Requirement tonight at eight – we'll wait there until just before curfew and then head down to the third floor."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to wahi, realjet2000, moorejr, elfbrb040106, arabellagrace, Paradox bookjunkie, Gaia Mystica, green493, belowthemasondx, Tori Kay, RynNightShade, Karyn K. Yape, ams71080, Phoenix823, Nadeshiko Black, Aflibble, neshy, Princess Insanity XD, boothaddict77, FarSilver, & Nikki2202 for the follows/faves, & to long live marshmallows, T. H. Enesley, KodeV, boothaddict, & mudbloodpotter05 for the reviews! You guys are awesome.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R - hope you enjoyed! :)**


	20. To the Third Floor We Go

Dumbledore still hadn't returned to Hogwarts by dinnertime, so the four Gryffindors met in the Room of Requirement at eight o'clock that night. Draco joined them ten minutes later, having been forced to take a lengthy detour to avoid Filch, who was prowling the fourth floor and would surely have questioned why the first-year Slytherin was so far from his dungeon common room so close to curfew.

"How long do you think we should wait before we go?" Hermione asked. "The older students are allowed to stay out till nine - shouldn't we wait until there's less chance of us being seen?"

"Probably," Harry agreed. "We can hang out here until just before nine - that way, most people will already be in their common rooms - and then we'll just have to keep a sharp lookout for prefects and teachers."

"We can also have the room open near the library - there's a staircase right near there that'll take us to the third floor, yeah?" Neville suggested.

"Perfect."

The hour passed slowly, as everyone was too nervous to really get involved in a conversation or game. Hermione muttered to herself as she read through stacks of notes, hoping to gain some kind of clue as to what sort of enchantments or traps they might encounter, and Ron paced the length of the hearth rug over and over. He seemed to be counting steps, and no one dared interrupt him to confirm or deny that theory.

Finally, the mantle clock struck nine.

"This is it," Harry said solemnly. "Last chance to back out - I wouldn't blame you if you did, since we have no idea what we're up against here."

"We're coming with you, Harry," Draco said. Hermione, Ron, and Neville nodded their agreement.

"Alright, then. Let's go." Harry cautiously opened the door and poked his head out.

"Coast is clear!" he said. "The staircase Neville mentioned is behind that tapestry across the hall, the one with the giant map of Hogsmeade. Just...go quick and stay quiet, yeah? One...two...three!" The five friends sprinted across the hall and made it behind the tapestry without incident. A short flight of stairs found them very close to the door concealing the forbidden corridor. However, there was one small problem...

"Who's that, then? Come out, come out, wherever you are!" They stared at each other, their eyes wide.

"It's Peeves!" Harry hissed. Running into the poltergeist after-hours was guaranteed to be even worse than running into Filch or a teacher.

"What should we do?" Neville whispered. "We can't get to the door if Peeves is there!"

"I heard you, I heard you!" Peeves called, cackling to himself as he bounced up and down the hallway. "You may be invisible, but Peevsie heard you!"

"That's it!" Draco said suddenly. "I've got an idea." He scooted himself along the wall until he was right behind the concealed entrance to their hiding place, moved the tapestry aside just enough that he could see, and projected his voice down the corridor:

"Peeves!" he called, making himself sound hoarse, "you dare disturb the Bloody Baron?" Peeves immediately froze.

"Your Baron-ness?"

"Yes, Peeves. I have work to do here tonight - stay away from this corridor, if you will."

"Yes, sir!" Draco saw Peeves give a little salute before racing around the corner and out of sight. He turned back to the others and smirked.

"Mission accomplished," he said smugly.

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked. "That was...kind of creepy."

"The Bloody Baron's our house ghost, you know," Draco replied. "He's the only one in the whole school who can control Peeves - for whatever reason, the stupid pest is terrified of him."

"Good to know," Harry said, clapping his brother on the back. "Let's go!" They darted across the corridor to the locked door, and Harry hurriedly opened it before ushering them all inside.

The first thing they noticed was the quiet.

"The dog's asleep?" Harry said. "I wonder what did that." Indeed, the monstrous animal was fast asleep, one of its heads resting on its huge front paws.

The second was the music.

"Where'd that come from?" Ron asked, pointing to an elaborate golden harp that was playing of its own accord in the near corner.

"I don't know," Hermione said, "but I think that's what put the dog to sleep. There wasn't anything like that when you were here last, was there, Harry?"

"No, there wasn't," Harry agreed. "I think you're right, Maya." He crept forward cautiously, examining the trapdoor, which was right between the dog's front paws. It was wide open.

"What's down there?" Draco asked.

"Dunno - it's too dark to tell. Either that or the drop's too far." Nobody really knew what to say to that - Harry's latter thought was a rather ominous one.

"Shall we just...go for it, then?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.

"Might as well, I guess. I'll go first and call up to you if it's safe to follow." Before anyone could object, Harry swung his legs around and dropped down the trapdoor out of sight. After several tense moments, they heard a faint echo:

"It's not that far and it's a soft landing, go ahead and jump!"

Emboldened by Harry's success, Ron jumped, followed closely by Neville, who was shaking at the sight of the enormous dog and seemed to want to put as much distance as possible between himself and the slumbering beast. Draco and Hermione glanced at each other.

"Ready?" Draco asked.

"No," Hermione replied truthfully. "Are you?"

"Nope."

"Great...let's go, then."

"Together?"

"Yeah."

They clasped hands and paused to take a deep breath, and it wasn't until then that they realized just how utterly silent the room had become.

"Draco..." Hermione said slowly, "why has the harp stopped?" They both turned to look at the harp, which had indeed fallen silent, then tilted their heads upwards in horror. Unfortunately, Hermione's theory about the harp was right, and the dog was now wide awake, all six of its eyes focused intently on the pair of students, low growls emitting from each of its throats.

"RUN!" Draco yelled, nearly jerking Hermione off her feet as he catapulted both of them towards the trapdoor. It was an incredibly stupid move, but it caught the dog off guard, and they launched themselves towards the opening in the floor.

Harry, Ron, and Neville heard the growls, barks, and bangs, followed by a shriek from Hermione, before their friends tumbled into their midst.

"Hermione, light a fire - quick!" Neville shouted. Hermione was dizzy when she landed, but she was coherent enough to notice that they'd fallen on top of a large plant, one she recognized from Herbology class. The plant's tendrils were creeping their way around her and Draco's ankles, and the other three were already trapped to their waists. She whipped out her wand and cried, _"Incendio!"_ Flames shot from her wand towards the plant, which shied away from the light and heat, releasing its captives in the process. The children scrambled away hastily towards the far wall, where a stone corridor opened up away from the plant.

"Devil's Snare," Neville panted as they collapsed against the wall. "I knew what it was the instant we landed, but you're the only one that knows that fire spell. Thanks, Hermione."

"Anytime." Hermione then let out a cry of pain and sank to the floor, gritting her teeth.

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded. "Maya, are you alright?"

"It's nothing," Hermione managed, but Harry was having none of it.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Hermione Jean Granger," he nearly snapped. "What's wrong?" Instead of answering, Hermione pulled back her robes. Blood coated the lower half of her right leg and was still leaking from a large gash along the back of her calf.

"Sweet Salazar, Lotte, what happened?" Draco asked, dropping to his knees in front of Hermione to examine the wound. Thankfully, it wasn't deep, but if the look on Hermione's face was anything to go by, it still hurt.

"The dog scratched me," she said, wincing again as another wave of pain hit her. "Right before we fell in, he swiped his paw at us, and he got me before I could fall far enough."

"Here," Neville said, reaching up to undo his robes. There was a large rip in the material from where it had snagged on the Devil's Snare, so he was easily able to tear off a sizeable chunk of the fabric. "We can use this as a bandage - I've outgrown these robes anyway, so I'll just get new ones over the summer." He tore off a second, smaller piece, which they used to clean the wound and make sure it had stopped bleeding before they carefully wrapped the makeshift bandage around Hermione's leg.

"Can you stand?" Draco asked. He and Neville helped Hermione to her feet, and she gingerly put weight on her injured leg.

"It still hurts, but it's not horrible," she said. Draco and Neville each wrapped an arm around her shoulders, silently encouraging her to lean on them if need be, and the friends slowly walked down the stone passageway. It dead-ended at another door, which was unlocked.

"Well...at least nothing in here's tried to kill us yet," Ron said optimistically as they filed into a large chamber. The room was brightly lit, and it was empty save for a number of curious colored lights fixed to the ceiling. Another door, nearly identical to the one they'd just come through, stood directly across from them.

"I don't suppose that door's unlocked?" Harry asked.

"My guess is no," Draco said. "That'd be too easy, wouldn't it?" Harry ventured across the room and tried the door, which was indeed shut tight. _Alohomora_ had no affect on the lock.

"These lights can't just be here for show," Hermione mused, limping away from the boys to stare up at the ceiling. "I'll bet they hold the key to unlocking the door."

"So what are we supposed to do? I don't think any of us can shoot spells that high," Neville said.

"Maybe not...but these might help," Ron said with a grin. He was holding three ancient-looking broomsticks.

"Where'd you get those?" Harry asked.

"Over in the corner." Ron shrugged. "Figured they might help."

"Count me out of this one," Neville said immediately. "You know how I am on a broom."

"I think I'll have to sit out too," Hermione agreed. "As much as I like flying, I don't think I'll be much use when I can hardly even stand at the moment." She limped back over to the wall and sat down next to Neville while Harry, Ron, and Draco picked up the brooms. They kicked off and flew up to the dots, examining them closely. At first, they appeared identical save for their colors - red, yellow, blue, and green - but Harry soon spotted the number '1' on one of the dots. Curious, he reached up and touched that dot. Instantly, the dots left the ceiling and began weaving around the room. The three rapidly scanned the dots, frantically trying to figure out what they were supposed to do, before Harry saw a number '2' on a green dot across the room. He leaned forward on his broom and shot towards the dot, but it dissolved before he reached it. Disappointed, the three boys returned to the ground and glanced back up. The dots had reappeared on the ceiling, as motionless as they'd been when they'd arrived.

"I think I know what we're supposed to do," Harry said. "The dots are numbered - there was a 'two' on that green dot, I just didn't get there fast enough. If we all keep a sharp lookout, I'll bet we can hit all the dots in the right order before they disappear." The others agreed that this seemed a reasonable idea, and Harry, Draco, and Ron mounted their brooms once more. This time, only Harry flew all the way up to the dots - that way, once they were activated, Draco and Ron would be closer to the floating dots and could start searching for the next number immediately.

It took three more tries, but they finally got through the entire sequence of twenty numbers. When Draco hit the last number, the dots returned to their place on the ceiling, and they were confused when nothing else happened.

"Quick!" Hermione shouted. "Look at the dots!" They looked up to where she was pointing. Four dots, one of each color, were pulsing slightly.

"Which one do we hit?" Harry called back. "I have a feeling if we hit the wrong one we'll have to try again!"

"The blue one!" Hermione said. "Hit the blue one, quick!" Draco shot upwards and rapped his knuckles on the blue dot just before it stopped pulsing. A grating sound filled the chamber, and a panel in the floor slid back to reveal a short pedestal, on which sat a large, old-fashioned iron key. Harry, Ron, and Draco raced back to the ground as Hermione and Neville hastily walked forward to claim the key, which fit perfectly in the door's clunky lock.

"The lights literally did 'hold the key'," Draco said with a laugh, repeating Hermione's earlier words. "How did you know which dot was the last one?" he asked her.

"It was a pattern," she said, shrugging as best she could with her arms still supported by the boys. "I noticed during your second go-around that the colors of the dots you hit kept repeating themselves in the same sequence, and blue was next in the order."

"Brilliant as always, Hermione," Harry grinned. "At least one of us is observant." The others chuckled in agreement, and they made their way down another passageway to yet another closed door. Unlike the door they'd just come through, this one was unlocked, and they pushed it open, wondering what they'd find on the other side.

* * *

**A/N: Happy birthday to our favorite blonde ferret, Draco Malfoy! (or Black, if you like my version) In honor of the occasion, I've actually got 2 chapters for you tonight, so if you like how this one went, keep reading!**

**Thanks for this chapter go to kymickeyfan717, The Loyal Executioner, Slytherin Potter, PotterMalfoygirl, CrimsonAngel1992, & omfgapenny for the follows/faves, & thanks to KodeV, Kermit 304, & jkrowlingrox for the reviews!**

**JKR owns everything Potterverse, I just play. Please R&R, & I hope you enjoyed! :)**


	21. All Sorts of Strange Encounters

The sight in the next room left them speechless. A gigantic chessboard covered almost the entire floor, the stone pawns as tall as the children and the major pieces nearly twice that height.

"What now?" Hermione asked, shivering slightly at the sight of the faceless chessmen.

"There's a door behind the opposing pieces," Harry replied, pointing. "I think we have to play our way across." The chess pieces snapped to attention at his words, the black contingent, which was closest, facing them intently.

"Ron, I think this is your challenge," Harry said.

"Me?" Ron asked, looking nonplussed.

"Yes, you. You're the best chess player here - if anyone can get us through, it's you."

"I...alright, then." Ron turned his attention to the black king. "Do we, er, join you?" The black king nodded. "Right..." Ron paced the length of the board slowly, studying the pieces before sending off the black rooks and a bishop and having his friends take their places. He himself replaced one of the black knights. They waited for the first move, but the white pieces stayed put, and it was with chagrin that they realized Hermione would have to play as well. Ron directed her to take the place of the other bishop, and the game began.

The tension in the room was almost palpable. It didn't take them long to realize that this was definitely a game of wizard's chess – the shattered remains of one of their pawns made it quite clear that the white pieces would show no mercy, and Ron was almost visibly shaking as he directed his troops around the board, doing his best to keep his friends out of harm's way without compromising the integrity of the game.

After over a half hour of intense play, Ron studied the board for several long moments before shaking his head grimly.

"That's not good," he muttered, "but it has to be done."

"What has to be done?" asked Neville, who was nearest. Ron bit his lip.

"I've got to go," he replied. "If I let that bishop take me, Hermione can move three squares that way and end the game."

"Ron, are you mad?" Harry asked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "The bishop might kill you if you do that!"

"There's no other way!" Ron replied angrily. "You know perfectly well you can't win at chess without making some sacrifices. We're running out of time, and we could very well lose if I don't make this move!" Before any of the others could protest, Ron walked two squares forward and one to the right. Immediately, the bishop attacked, smashing Ron across the side with a cold limb and sending the redhead flying across the room, where he hit the wall and lay motionless.

"RON!" Harry yelled.

"Don't move!" Draco said quickly. "The game isn't over yet! Lotte, go ahead – three squares that way." He pointed to where Hermione was supposed to go, and she hobbled her way into the correct square.

"Checkmate!" she cried.

The white king threw his crown on the ground at her feet, and the four friends immediately rushed off the board to Ron. He was definitely alive, but he was unconscious, and he'd have a wicked headache when he woke up.

"I'm going to stay with him," Hermione said.

"What?" Harry asked, looking at her incredulously.

"Listen – we're wasting time," Hermione said firmly. "I can barely walk, and my leg's hurting more the further we go. I'll stay with Ron; you three go on ahead. There should only be two challenges left."

"How do you figure that?" Draco asked.

"Easy – there's something from each of the four Heads of House, plus I'd assume Dumbledore contributed as well. I had my suspicions when we got to the key room, and this chess game only confirmed it – who else could Transfigure something like that but Professor McGonagall? Professor Sprout provided the Devil's Snare, and Flitwick obviously charmed the dots and concealed the key. All that's left is Professor Snape's, plus whatever Dumbledore did."

"I'm staying too," Neville said once Hermione had finished. Harry made to protest, but Neville stopped him with a look. "It makes sense – Hermione and Ron are both hurt; they need somebody to stay with them just in case. Besides, we've already faced what I'm best at – I'm absolute rubbish at Potions, so I'll only hold you up if I go on."

"I really don't like the idea of us splitting up, but there isn't really a better way to do it, is there?" Harry asked, looking slightly worried. Hermione hurried to him as fast as her injured leg would allow and embraced him tightly.

"We'll be fine," she assured him. "You go on ahead, and we'll see if we can get some help." She turned to hug Draco as well, resolve hardening in her brown eyes. After several more hugs and apprehensive looks all around, Harry and Draco walked off the chessboard and into the next room.

The door slammed shut and barred itself behind them the instant they were in the chamber, its twin on the far wall doing the same. This room was much smaller than the previous one and contained nothing but a lone wooden table, on top of which sat seven bottles of various shapes and sizes. A scroll of parchment sat next to the bottles. Thinking the scroll might help them, Harry and Draco hastened to read it:

_Seven flasks of liquid ice  
Or are they liquid fire?  
To navigate a deadly maze  
These clues you will require:  
Five choices will not help you  
If onward is your call  
Three will bring disaster  
And two do naught at all  
One shall send you forward  
The last lets you go back  
Just pour your choice upon the door  
And watch the bolts go slack  
Death waits for you in bottle one  
And four won't help, it's true  
The contents of flask seven  
Are not in bottle two  
Six finds its twin in middle ground  
Likewise to one and five  
Choose wisely which will send you on  
Even thoughts keep you alive  
Far right, we say goodbye  
Far left, we bid adieu  
And now I give your final quest:  
Which flask's the one for you?_

"Oh, man," Harry muttered. "That doesn't sound good."

"It's a logic puzzle," Draco replied, studying the paper intently, "but I don't fancy the outcome if we choose wrong."

"Well, let's not choose wrong, then," Harry said. "I am glad we don't have to brew anything, though." Draco agreed, and they flattened the scroll on the table, reading the poem to themselves as they studied the bottles.

"It seems like the bottles are numbered in the clues," Draco said, pointing at several lines. "It would make the most sense if they went left to right, so let's start there." Silence reigned for several minutes as the two boys attempted to solve the puzzle.

"I wish I had a quill," Harry said after some time. "Maya could probably do this in her head, but I'm all confused."

"I've almost got it," Draco replied. "The seventh bottle will let us go back the way we came."

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, for starters, these two lines – 'far right, we say goodbye, far left, we bid adieu' – both suggest some sort of departure. The poem's already told us here" – he pointed to another line further up – "that bottle number one, a.k.a. the 'far left', brings death, and somehow I think the two bottles are different. If we interpret the line 'the last lets you go back' literally, that also fits the theory that seven unlocks the door to the chess room. Five is a twin to one, so that's also bad, and four 'won't help' – that wording leads me to think that four isn't deadly, merely useless."

"What about this line – 'six finds its twin in middle ground'?" Harry asked.

"That's easy – there are seven bottles, and the fourth is in the middle. We've already determined four is no good, so six won't do anything either."

"We still have two bottles left, though," Harry pointed out. "How do we determine if number two or number three will send us forward? The other one will kill us."

"That, I'm not sure," Draco admitted, "and fifty-fifty odds make guessing a terrible idea." They were silent for several more minutes before Harry spoke.

"I think it's bottle two – the one we want, I mean," he said.

"How so?"

"Well…for starters, the poem says absolutely nothing about bottle three. Somehow, I don't think it would make the correct answer the only bottle that's left out. That would be too obvious. And second, I'm looking at this line here – 'even thoughts keep you alive'. It's kind of weird wording, isn't it? What if it doesn't mean even as in levelheaded, but even as in even numbers? Two is an even number, three isn't – two will get us through, three won't."  
"Hmm…it's a bit of a stretch, but it's the only guess we've got," Draco said. "Shall we give it a go, then?" He handed the second bottle to Harry, and the two stepped forward to the far door. Harry cautiously uncorked it and stared at it for a moment before pouring the bright blue liquid within onto the lock. It hissed ominously before the entire door melted away.

"I guess that worked, then. You ready?" Harry asked with a sideways glance at Draco.

"Not really," the blonde admitted, "but go for it. I'm right behind you."

However, Draco never got a chance to follow Harry – as soon as Harry crossed the threshold, the door solidified once more. Bottle two, the only way forward, had vanished with him, and there was no replacement on the table. If Draco wanted to leave the room, the only way he could go was back the way he'd come.

Harry heard the clank of the door behind him and knew he was alone – somehow, something had prevented Draco from following him. This terrifying thought left his mind as he took in his surroundings. He was in a final stone chamber, the only visible exit being the door he'd just come through, and a magnificent mirror stood in the center of the room. The mirror appeared to be made of solid gold and had a curious inscription carved across the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. _

Harry didn't recognize the language – was it some sort of spell? He thought not – all the spells they'd learned thus far had Latin roots, and he couldn't pick out any Latin amongst the strange words. Even if it was a spell, he had no idea how to go about pronouncing it, and Professor Flitwick's lectures about the perils of improper pronunciation kept him from trying anything.

Before Harry could decide on a further course of action, a movement in the shadows made him realize he wasn't alone. He whirled around to face the intruder and found himself looking into the terrified face of Professor Quirrell.

"P-Professor?" Harry stammered. "What are you doing down here?" The young man had his wand trained on Harry, and he was shaking uncontrollably. His obvious distress scared Harry – what was wrong?

"Professor?" Harry tried again. "What's going on?"

A jet of light hit Harry square in the chest, and he collapsed in a heap. Whatever the spell was, Harry was still fully aware of his surroundings, but he couldn't move a muscle. In an instant, Quirrell was crouched beside him, fumbling with something in his pocket. The young professor pressed something into Harry's palm and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

The last thing Harry felt before the world went black was an icy cold liquid slithering down his throat.

* * *

He saw the boy go limp and grinned – perfect. Certain people would be very pleased to hear of this development. A moment later, he saw the professor slump as well. Even better – less work for him to do. The stupid man was a weakling anyway, a liability. Satisfied that all had gone according to plan, he crept into the shadows and slipped through a concealed hole in the wall. His work here was done.

* * *

**A/N: Just keeping things interesting... ;) Please R&R! Hope you enjoyed. :)**


	22. Far From Over

"Ah, Mr. Potter, you're awake! Excellent."

Harry blinked once, twice, three times. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Groggily, he sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself meeting the gaze of Albus Dumbledore, who was perched on the edge of one of the hospital wing's many beds. Harry saw a goblet of water on the bedside table and took several large gulps of the cool liquid before speaking.

"Professor?" he asked uncertainly. "What...what happened?"

"That, Harry, is a rather interesting tale," the old wizard replied, "but I think there are a few others who'd like to hear it as well." He nodded towards the hospital wing's entrance, and the door burst open, revealing Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Neville.

"Harry - oh, _Harry!"_ Hermione rushed forward, followed closely by the others, and nearly strangled her friend in a hug.

"We were so worried-"

"Thought you'd died-"

"When you didn't come back-"

"If I may interrupt," Dumbledore said, "I would like to know what happened, if that's alright."

"We tried, Professor, I'm so sorry," Harry began. "We tried to talk to you, but Professor McGonagall said you weren't at the school, and she didn't believe us when we said the stone was in danger-"

"Hold on a minute," Dumbledore interrupted. "What's this about a stone?"

"The...the philosopher's stone, sir," Harry said, deciding it'd be best to tell the truth. We'd worked out that it was here at Hogwarts, and I'd already accidentally run into the dog back in first term and guessed it was guarding something, and we thought that was it. When we heard about the attack on the unicorn, we knew the person who'd done it would probably go after the stone next, and that was the day you were gone." He quickly gave Dumbledore the details of how they'd figured everything out - the Gringotts break-in, the chocolate frog card and the subsequent revelations about Flamel, the first encounter with the dog, and the connection between the unicorn and the stone. To everyone's surprise, Dumbledore chuckled heartily when Harry finished his tale.

"I must commend you on your thoroughness," he began, his blue eyes twinkling merrily, "but you got one crucial detail wrong."

"What's that, sir?" Harry asked.

"The stone was never down the trapdoor," the headmaster replied.

"Wait..._what?"_ The children all started chattering at once. Dumbledore held up a hand to silence them.

"The stone was never down the trapdoor," he repeated. "It was indeed at Hogwarts - you got that part right - but it was never kept there."

"Then...where was it?" Draco inquired. "And what _was_ down the trapdoor, if the stone wasn't?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer your first question, Mr. Black," Dumbledore said. "It was stored somewhere that only I have access to, somewhere that I can assure you is far more secure than a simple _Alohomora_ charm." That did make sense - after all, the _Alohomora _charm was first-year material; in theory, anyone who knew where the door was could access the forbidden corridor. Now that they thought about it, the children agreed that it wouldn't make sense to hide something so important there.

"As for the second question..." Dumbledore paused, and his eyes twinkled even more. "You saw everything that was down the trapdoor - or at least, Harry did."

The children looked confused.

"Wait...Headmaster, are you saying there wasn't anything down there at all?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Nothing being guarded, I mean."

"That is correct, Miss Granger."

"What on earth is all that doing in the school for no reason?" Ron asked.

"Ah, but there I must beg to differ, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "Just because there was nothing being guarded doesn't mean the course was there for no reason."

"Course?"

"Yes. The obstacles were set up as a challenge course to test the incoming class at the Auror academy - candidates have been using it all year. It's tradition that the location of the course, which changes every year, be kept an absolute secret - it's too easy to cheat otherwise, which defeats the purpose of testing the Aurors' ability to face the unknown."

"Which I suppose is why you didn't tell the school _why_ the corridor was off-limits, only that it was," Hermione finished.

"Precisely. The only people who knew exactly what was down there and what it was for are the Heads of Houses and I. The dog, as I'm sure you could guess, I borrowed from Hagrid, but I didn't tell him why I needed him, nor did he ask."

The children were stunned - after all that, they'd merely been doing an oversized obstacle course?

"And now, if you don't mind my asking, how did you fare with the challenges?" Dumbledore asked. It seemed like an odd question, but the whole conversation had been so strange that they didn't mind telling him.

"I think I might have to tell Alastor to make next year's course a little more difficult, if first-years - albeit very capable ones - got through this one so well," he said with a smile once they'd finished.

"I failed the last one, though," Harry pointed out. "I never did figure out what I was supposed to do with the mirror, since Quirrell showed up and...um, what exactly happened?" Dumbledore's smile vanished.

"The mirror is neither here nor there at the moment," he said. "We can always talk about the mirror later - it's a rather fascinating object, you know. Professor Quirrell, however..."

"Hang on," Draco cut in, "I don't think I've seen him at all in the last three days. Where is he?"

"Three days? I've been in here for _three days?"_ Harry asked in shock.

"Yes, Harry, you have, and it ties in to what I'm about to say. Professor Quirrell is dead." The children gasped. Dumbledore looked solemn as he began to tell his story.

"Professor Quirrell is dead," he repeated. "When I reached the mirror room, I found the two of you lying motionless on the floor. You, Harry, had a vial and a piece of parchment in your hand. The vial contained some of Professor Quirrell's memories, and the parchment filled in the rest. Quirrell had been the victim of a modified form of the Imperius curse, which is one of the three Unforgivable curses - use of any one of the three is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. The Imperius curse compels the victim to do anything the caster wishes - in Quirrell's case, his controller forced him to curse Mr. Kensington's broom, place Madam Hooch under the Imperius curse and persuade her to suggest first-years on the house Quidditch teams, and attempt to kill the unicorn. Somehow, the person found out about the stone and the trapdoor, and he - or she - came to the same false conclusion you did: the two were connected."

"Who was the caster?" Hermione asked. "And why were they after the stone?"

"As to the first question, I'm afraid I don't know," Dumbledore admitted. "The curse was modified in such a way that Quirrell couldn't reveal who was controlling him, nor is the altered curse traceable. I must admit I've never encountered the curse in this form before, which is definitely troublesome. As to the second, I'm assuming the attacker is a follower of Voldemort - whether or not they are in contact cannot be determined, but there's no doubt that Voldemort would greatly reward anyone who could present him with such a prize." The children shuddered at the thought of Voldemort holding the key to immortality.

"So how did Quirrell die, then?" Harry asked. "And what did he do to me?"

"It seems your poor professor had a conscience - from what I gather, he'd been fighting the curse all year, and he was incredibly distressed at what the other person was making him do. From the memories, I learned that he never even met the caster, which explains why he never gave a name - he simply didn't know. His final task was to kill you, Harry - somehow the caster knew you were going down the trapdoor that night, and he commanded Quirrell to get rid of you. Quirrell knew he couldn't kill anyone in cold blood, especially not a student, so he came up with a way to make it look like you were dead when you actually weren't. He forced you to drink the Draught of Living Death, which puts the drinker in a deep sleep mimicking death - if the attacker happened to witness the scene, he'd be convinced of your demise. Quirrell made us aware of this in his note, and Professor Snape provided the potion's antidote."

Silence reigned for several minutes as the children processed the information. There was rather a lot of it, and it was more than a little scary to think of how much danger they'd unknowingly put themselves in.

"And now I think it's time to let the others join us," Dumbledore said quietly once he felt the children had had enough time to think. He murmured something they couldn't hear, and a bright silver bird shot from the end of his wand, soaring majestically through the ward before disappearing. A few minutes later, the infirmary door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and…Lily. Harry's heart sank at the sight of his mother. Had he really thought Dumbledore wouldn't tell her about this? He'd be surprised if they all weren't expelled…

"Harry James Potter, don't you _ever_ do something so stupid ever again!" Lily cried, rushing forward and embracing her son nearly as fiercely as Hermione had done. She looked both relieved and furious.

"What were you thinking, doing something so dangerous?" she asked. "You could've died! Why didn't you talk to a teacher?"

"We…we did," Harry said weakly. He was still tired from his stint at playing 'dead' and all the talking, but he started over from the beginning, telling the tale to the three newcomers just as he'd told it to Dumbledore. Dumbledore filled them in on Quirrell's role, though he left out quite a bit – Harry suspected he'd already told the other adults most of what had transpired.

"Er…Professor?" Hermione asked timidly when all was quiet.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Well…what's being done now? About the attacker, I mean." The other children gave her grateful looks – they were equally worried about this and were very glad Hermione had finally voice their concerns.

"As I already told you, we unfortunately have no concrete identity for the perpetrator," Dumbledore reminded them. "Teams of Aurors and other specialists are combing the trapdoor and various other parts of the castle as we speak in search of evidence, and though very little has been found, they hope an analysis will give us a clue. In the meantime, however, please all stay on your guard, and if you notice anything suspicious, I ask you to report it immediately – this is a case where it would be most unwise to go off on your own," he cautioned. They all nodded solemnly.

"I suppose you're wondering why your Heads of House are here," he said.

"Not really," Hermione confessed. "We broke the rules, didn't we?"

"Miss Granger, I would first like to say that I'm relieved none of you are hurt," Professor McGonagall assured her, "but yes, you are correct. Honorable though your intentions may have been, all of you were out-of-bounds after hours, and that cannot go unnoticed. I shall be taking twenty points each from Gryffindor, and you will serve detention tonight instead of going to the feast." The Gryffindors hung their heads, knowing they deserved the punishment. Ravenclaw had long since secured the House Cup, but Gryffindor and Slytherin had been vying for second place for several weeks – the loss of eighty points in one go had almost guaranteed they'd come up short.

"Mr. Black, twenty points from Slytherin as well, and you will join your classmates in detention," Snape said smoothly. "All of you, six o'clock in my office – don't be late."

"Don't think that this is over," Lily warned as she glared at her children. "Padfoot and I will be punishing you accordingly as well, and we'll make sure your parents know what happened, Hermione."

The adults all left shortly thereafter, leaving the children to their thoughts.

"Twenty points off and detention, and Mum's adding something on top of that?" Harry groaned. "Whatever it is, it can't be good."

"At least your mum didn't do what mine did," Ron said bitterly.

"Which is?"

"She sent me a Howler – a magical letter that shouts its message out for everyone to hear. Right embarrassing, it was, and I'm sure I'll get an earful when I get home as well. Percy's already cornered me at least three times to yell at me, and Mum's a lot worse."

"Gran's not too thrilled either," Neville admitted. "She visited the day after we went down the trapdoor and gave me a talking-to – I'm surprised she didn't send a Howler too, but she's a lot more intimidating in person, so she probably figured she got through to me the first time."

The children chatted quietly for another ten minutes or so before Madam Pomfrey returned. She declared Harry completely recovered and sent them on their way, and they hurried to their common rooms without a backward glance – if they were serving detention tonight, they had some serious packing to do.

* * *

"Severus, wait!" Snape inwardly sighed – he'd know that voice anywhere. Quite frankly, he was surprised she hadn't come to him sooner.

"What do you want?" he asked, turning to face Lily.

"I…" she faltered, seemingly unable to speak when she'd been so confident not a moment before.

"Spit it out," Snape said impatiently. "I haven't got all day."

"I…I'm sorry." The confession came out as barely more than a whisper, and Lily found she couldn't look him in the eye. It wasn't enough, and she knew it, but she couldn't seem to phrase it any other way.

"Isn't it a little late for that?" he snorted.

"Yes, it is." Snape looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected her to agree.

"Yes, it is," Lily repeated, her gaze moving upwards to meet his. "What I did to you was horrible, and I don't – I _can't_ expect you to forgive me. But please – leave Harry out of it, would you? It's not his fault." Snape's dark eyes narrowed slightly.

"Lily, every time I look at _Harry_, it's a reminder of what I lost," he spat. "A reminder of what I lost to _James effing Potter…_"

"I know," Lily interrupted, "I know. I ditched my best friend for his sworn enemy – Merlin, when I put it that way, it sounds even worse, doesn't it? But Harry didn't make that decision – I did. Be angry at me all you want, but please don't take it out on him."

"Those eyes…_dammit,_ Lily, every time I look at him, I see you! I want to forget, I need to forget, it'd be _so much easier_ to forget – but I can't. Salazar, Lily, don't you know how much I still care about you – how much I still love you?" Lily gasped softly at his uncharacteristic display of emotion, her eyes full of unshed tears.

"After everything I've done?" she whispered. "After all this time?"

His response was equally quiet. "Always."

She smiled sadly. "You were – _are_ – my best friend, Sev. I threw that all away over an insult, and I've regretted it ever since. I don't regret what I've done with my life since, though – I know you hated him, but James Potter did have a good side, and I learned to appreciate what he could be. Sirius is as good a friend as anyone, and Harry…Harry is my whole world. I can't imagine not having him in my life – he's made me a better person, Sev. He really has."

"Your son, I suppose I can understand," Snape admitted after a lengthy silence. "He certainly hasn't inherited your Potions abilities, but I can see that he has his…good moments." He paused, looking slightly pained. "But of all people, Lily – you could've had anyone you wanted. Why did it have to be him?"

"I can't explain it," she replied quietly, "and even if I did, you wouldn't understand – your hatred for him would override anything I could say…and I wouldn't be able to fault you for it." She paused and tentatively reached out to place a hand on his upper arm, relieved when he didn't move away.

"You meant everything to me, once, you know," she said softly. "That's why it hurt so much, that day by the lake. I know you were angry, but it hurt more than you could ever know."

"I know," he said. "I saw it in your eyes – I knew I'd gone too far, and I knew there was no taking it back. The look in your eyes haunts me to this day – it always will." A few of Lily's tears spilled over and trickled down her cheeks.

"It's too late, isn't it?" she said sadly. "For us." He sighed.

"Too late for what – redemption? Forgiveness? Lily, I forgave you years ago, but forgiving myself is a lot harder. I crossed the line – I _hurt_ you – and I don't know if I can get past that."

"I understand. A small part of me hopes you're wrong, though. I'd give anything to have my best friend back. I…I miss you." She sighed and released her hold on him.

"I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be," she said. "Don't get me wrong, I do love you, Sev – I'm just not sure I love you the same way you love me, and I can't lie to you like that. I've done more than enough of that already. And I don't know how you could possibly want to be around me if I can't give you that. I just…don't know what to do. It's a lose-lose situation, isn't it?" Snape sighed again.

"Every time I see you, it's painful," he admitted. "It's a reminder of what I had, and a reminder of what I lost. I don't know if not seeing you is better, or worse. If the last few days are anything to go by, though, we'll be running into each other quite a lot, what with your son's penchant for getting into trouble, and I intend to keep the vow I made with Albus when I joined the Order. It is indeed a lose-lose situation – but it's the best option we've got, so it'll have to do. I can't lose you again, Lily – I can't."

"Oh, Sev." Lily gave him a small smile and embraced him tightly. He was hesitant to reciprocate the affection, only loosely returning the hug, but it was better than nothing.

"Are you Draco's godfather?" Lily asked suddenly. She stepped back a bit so she could see his face.

"Whatever made you think that?" he asked.

"I…er…am I wrong?" she said. "Draco was curious as to why you looked at him as if you knew him at the beginning of their first term – I knew you'd been close with his parents and told him so, and I didn't think the idea was so far-fetched…" She trailed off, feeling rather embarrassed.

"No, you're right," Snape said. "Draco is my godson, and I've known him since he was born. Narcissa didn't know of my status within the Order, obviously, but she knew of my place amongst the Dark Lord's ranks, which I assume is why she ruled me out as a candidate for his guardianship before she passed."

"What about his godmother?" Lily asked. "Narcissa never mentioned her – did he have one?"

"His godmother was a close friend of Narcissa's – I think they were in the same year at school, and I didn't know her well. She died less than a year before Narcissa from a rare disease, I believe."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Lily shifted on her feet and looked like she wasn't sure how to voice her next statement. "You can always, um…come visit Draco, if you'd like. I mean, if you'd like to get to know your godson."

"Lily, your house is Unplottable and Albus himself is the Secret-Keeper – I'm not coming over anytime soon," he reminded her.

"I…we could always bring the boys to Order headquarters, or something. I don't know…I just thought I'd offer."

"Thank you." The two words were a little stiff. "I'll…keep that in mind, then." An awkward silence reigned for several long moments.

"I…I really should be going, I suppose," Lily finally said. "Thank you…for listening."

"Of course."

Neither said anything more, only exchanging one last long look before going their separate ways down the corridor. The conversation was a big step, but healing the giant rift in their friendship was going to take time, and though they wouldn't dare voice it aloud, they both secretly feared it might be too late.

* * *

_Thus concludes part 1 - the story continues in part 2, titled 'Secret of the Serpent's House'. Come check it out!_

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the absurdly long chapter - Lily & Snape's conversation wasn't supposed to be that crazy, but they kind of ran away from me for a bit...**

**Thanks for the last 2 chapters go to narsil1995, hannasophia, Darman Skirata, BloodLess18, moriahhh, hemiyami, dreamerwriter15, diana prz, chrisarrington8, anmarie, TheGirlWhoEatsPie, SlytherinSilverStar, my darling ferocious105, langston love, rrussia, Orange3WhiteSkew, live4040, & noelhia for the follows/faves, & thanks to Kermit 304, KodeV, long live marshmallows, AllWasWell07, & dreamerwriter15 for the reviews!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. I hope you all enjoyed part 1 enough to join me for part 2 - chapter 1 is now going up on my profile, & I have a lot more crazy adventures planned for our trio! Hope to see you in 'Secret of the Serpent's House', & thanks for reading! :)**


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